Sweet Revenge
by wolf's paradise
Summary: Jack and Rose think the other is dead. Neither are looking for each other but both are alive. What happens when an old nemesis unconsciously brings them together, intent on making sure both of them die like they should have 1 year ago on Titanic?
1. Chapter 1: The Memory

1

1. The Memory

_I glance around me as I stand next to Cal and Mother. Everywhere I look there are people, scared people, running around the decks of the now sinking _Titanic_. Everything is like a dream. My cheek still hurts from where Cal had hit me just minutes ago. I stand rooted to where my feet are, but I am unconsciously watching Cal as he makes sure Mother and I are near a lifeboat. I can't help but stare at the women saying their good-byes to their husbands. What will happen to the men?_

_What about Jack?_

_Suddenly, I hear Mother's voice. "Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?" She gives a small, nervous laugh. "I hope they won't be too crowded."_

_My lips part. How can she be like this? "Oh, Mother, shut up!" I say, my voice growing louder. How could I have ever loved her—this horrible woman that thinks only of money and class? "Don't you understand? The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats! Not enough by half! Half the people on this ship are going to die."_

"_Not the better half," Cal mutters condescendingly. I stare at him. How could I have ever put up with this man? How could I have put up with the first class? The third class actually care about the people around them, about everyone. Not the first class. They only care about money and what connections it gives you._

_Cal turns to me. "You know, it's a pity I didn't keep that drawing. It'll be worth a lot more by morning."_

_I stare at Cal, hate burning through me. Molly calls to me, something I do not hear, and I turn to look at them._

"_Come into the boat, Rose," Mother says, holding out her hand._

_I back away from Mother and Cal. I can't stay. I have to go. "Good-bye, Mother." I move away and walk down the deck to the hold, to Jack. I don't care that I might drown in these icy waters; I have to be with Jack._

_Suddenly, I feel a strong grip take hold of my arm, and fear takes hold of me. I know who it is even before he speaks._

"_Where are you going? To him? To be a whore to a gutter rat?"_

_I look Cal in the face, my eyes on fire. "I'd rather be his whore than you're wife." I whirl around, but Cal pulls me back, his arms gripping mine. I can barely think for the fear of what he might do, as he tells me that I can't go to Jack._

"_I said no!" he cries, and I suddenly know what to do. I spit in his face, just like Jack had taught me, and mercifully, Cal lets go. I hurry off to the decks below to find Jack. I know he needs my help, and I know that he didn't take the Heart of the Ocean. I know he doesn't care about that._

_I run below deck, calling out for Mr. Andrews. The air is cold and my throat aches, but I have to keep going. "Mr. Andrews!" I call constantly. I have to find him! He can tell me where Jack is, and I need to hurry!_

"_Mr. Andrews! Thank God!" Finally I spot the object of my search. Before I even reach him I yell, "Where would the master-at-arms take someone under arrest?"_

"_What?" He looks confused for a moment, but continues, "You have to get to a boat right away!"_

"_No!" I say, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm doing this with or without your help, sir, but without will take longer." I hope he can see the desperation in my eyes. I have to know how to reach Jack. He could be dying! And I couldn't live without Jack. He is everything I can be and want to be. I have to save him._

_I listen closely as Mr. Andrews precedes to tell me the directions. I repeat them quickly, then thank him as I race further down the corridors to the elevators. They are blocked, but I am through being the polite English girl that I was raised to be. I thrust the crewman into the elevator, shouting in his face. I am more than desperate, now. I am hysterical._

_Frightened, the crewman lowers the elevator, and suddenly, icy Atlantic water floods the elevators. I thrust back the doors, wading out into the water that is already as high as my knees. The water freezes my heart, making it pound harder for fear of Jack. As I wade through the watered corridors, I shout Jack's name. Where is he? He has to be here._

"_Jack!"_

_I hear a faint sound that resembles my name._

"_Jack!" I call again, louder this time._

"_Rose!"_

_This time I hear it._

"_Jack!" I cry._

"_Rose!" I move towards the sound. "Over here, Rose!"_

_My heart leaps at the sound of his voice, and I feel hope. He is still alive! I shout his name again and again, and he answers me. But there are so many doors! Which one is it? Finally, I pick a door and thrust it open. I breathe a sigh of relief that suddenly turns to anguish. Jack is tied to a post, and there is no way to break the chains._

"_I'm so sorry!" I yell as I thrust myself towards him and kiss him._

"_That guy Lovejoy put it in my pocket!" he says angrily._

_I nodded. "I know, I know, I know, I know!"_

"_Look, you're going to have to find a key, Rose!" Jack yells desperately. "It should be a silver key!" I can hear panic in his voice, and I shudder. If Jack is afraid, then I should be, too. But there are no silver keys! Just brass ones. I look in the drawers, and in the cabinets. Nothing._

"_Rose," Jack says softly, and I turn to him. Does he know how that sound makes my heart flutter? "How did you find out I didn't do it?"_

_I smile. "I didn't. I realized I already knew."_

_He smiles, but calls me to him. "Rose, you're going to have to leave me and get help."_

"_No!"_

"_Go, Rose!" he says urgently._

_I wade my way over to him, crashing my lips to his and stroking his face. "I'll be right back."_

_No one is here. The water is already up to my waist, but I suddenly find a dry spot. I rush through the halls, my movements finally unimpaired. I call through the halls as the lights flicker, and I finally find someone, but they run! I can't catch them, and someone else comes, a waiter, but he tries to take me back up. I punch him, trying to tell him that I need help, but he runs away too._

_I spot it. An axe. I grabbed the fire hose and broke the glass, carefully grabbing the axe and running through the halls with it. I was so tired. My lungs hurt from all this cold air, and I was freezing all through my legs and torso. My dress and corset don't help the matter much, either, but I keep running, plunging back into the frigid water to save my love, my only love: Jack. He is all that matters._

_The water is up to my chest, now, and I have to hold on to the top pipes to keep from going under. I can hardly move for the water is so cold, but I push myself harder. The ship creaks above me. Never have I been so scared for my life._

_Finally, I wade in to Jack, and hold up the axe. "Will this work?" I yell._

_I see the uncertainty in his eyes. "I guess we'll find out." He spreads his hands as far as they can go on the pipe. "Right here, Rose. Aim right here."_

_I nod, and move the axe, but Jack stops me, corrects me. I can feel my lips turning blue, but I nod again and slam the axe onto the pipe. I barely smile, but relief fills me as I see that I haven't cut off one of Jack's hands._

_He is so happy! He hugs me, then takes my hand and leads me out. But the way I had gone before is blocked! How could the water be rising so quickly? Jack pulls me the other way, trying to find another way out. We race through the water as fast as we can, and I feel relief as I see a dry stairwell. We hurry up it, Jack always holding my hand. There is a door in front, and it is blocked. But I know Jack can get through it. Jack can get through anything._

_We burst through the door, and a steward follows us as we make our way to the surface._

"_You'll have to pay for that, you know! That's White Star Line Property!"_

_Both Jack and I yell at him. "Shut up!"_

_Jack grabs a blanket and throws it around me. We came to a gate, and the steward isn't letting us past. I am too cold to move, really, but I know that these third class people are no less important than the first class. These people have lives and children and family! Can't these people see that!_

_For the first time, I see Jack truly mad. He hammers at the gate, then pushes me aside to get to a bench. I am too shocked to really understand that he has pushed me aside too roughly, but I se what he is doing, and I try to move people out of the way. With just a few hits, the gate falls, and we are free. Two of Jacks friends are with him, and climb out to freedom. Jack grabs my hand and pulls me with him. We race out onto the main deck, and Jack lets go of my hand to look for boats. I run after him; I do not want to be left alone. I grab Jack's arm, and I can sense his panic._

_I see the Colonel. "Are there any boats on that side?" I ask breathlessly._

"_No, miss, but there are a couple of boats all the way forward."_

_Jack grabs my hand and we rush forward. My limbs are warming up with all this exercise, and I dread the thought of ever seeing water again. We run past the musicians, and I can feel the blank look on my face. My mind has not lost its sharpness, but I am too cold to show what I am thinking. But I know that with Jack next to me, I can do anything._

_I sigh inwardly as we reach a boat. I wait in line, Jack by my side. I watch as two girls and their mother are separated from their father. I can hear the worry and hurt in his voice as he tries to speak to them. Both are crying, and I try not to think about what I will do if I lose Jack._

_I turn around, my eyes staring intently at Jack. "I'm not going without you."_

_His face was equally intent as I looked into his green-blue eyes. "No, you've got to get to a boat. Now!"_

"_No, Jack," I say more calmly than I am feeling._

"_Get in the boat, Rose!" he says urgently._

"_Yes, get in the boat, Rose."_

_A small gasp escapes my lips as I stare into Cal's face. I grab Jack's arm, fear gripping me and turning my insides colder than the water did. Jack steps slightly in front of me, standing up to his full height._

_A fake look of concern crosses Cal's face. "My God, look at you. You look a fright! Here," he says, then throws off the blanket from my shoulders. The icy wind chills my skin as he takes off his own coat and puts it over me. He touches my hair and part of my face, and I back away. I can feel the fear in my eyes. Jack pushes me further away from Cal, and I look up into his beautiful face, no longer afraid. As long as I am with Jack, I fear nothing._

"_Go on. I'll get the next one."_

"_No! Not without you!" I say somewhat forcefully._

"_I'll be all right!" he reassures me. "Listen, I'm a survivor, allright? Don't worry about me," he says, putting his hand on the back of my head and stroking my hair. My hands flurry over his chest; I can't leave him! I can't!_

"_I have an arrangement with another officer," Cal says. "Jack and I are assured a spot on the next boat."_

"_See? I'll be fine. Got my own boat to catch."_

_I don't miss the slight hesitation in Jack's face before he says those words._

"_Hurry, they're almost full," Cal says softly._

"_Step aboard, miss!" a strange voice calls in my ear, and pulls me away from Jack. I gasp and look at the boat and the man, struggling slightly. I take his hand as I step onto the rail and into the boat. I turn back and reach out my hand, grabbing Jack's. I whimper in defeat as my hand slips from his grasp. I feel partially safe already, but then I look up. Jack is still aboard the _Titanic_. My safety is slipping away._

_But I can't move. The boats are already being lowered. If there were any tears left in me, I would have cried them, but I can't now. All I can see is Jack growing farther and farther away from me. Why can't life be fair? Why can't Jack come aboard this boat with me? We can both be safe, and if he were here, I would be leaning on his shoulder._

_I look around me. Most of the women are crying, reaching and calling out to their husbands. The children, too, are crying. But I cannot hear anything. My ears are only open for one sound: Jack's voice. And he is not here with me._

_I can see Cal right next to Jack, but I am not looking at him. Jack is the only thing I need and want. I see a flare of light flicker behind his face, lighting it. He looks so beautiful. I can't live without him. He has saved me from the life that I had been living; he saved me now when he told me to get on this boat. I had almost lost him when I had told him to stay away; I had almost lost him in the decks below. I can't bear to think that I will lose him now._

_Suddenly, it clicks in my head. Jack won't be able to get a boat. I can't see any men on a boat. There are only a few that went with the ladies. And I don't trust Cal. Why should I? He hasn't done anything for me. I look back at Jack, and he swallows._

_Quickly, before anyone notices—including myself—I step carefully through the passengers and fling myself onto the ledge of the second top deck. One man grabs my arm and helps me over, while I suddenly hear the gasps and screams of others. Is it the thought of going back to Jack that has my heart pounding, my ears listening, my body suddenly alive and craving for his touch? It has to be. That is the only way I _will_ feel alive._

_I race through the deck, pushing people out of my way. Jack. He is the only thought in my head as I clamber through the throngs of already frightened people. Jack. His face is all I see among the crowd of faces I pass. No thought for what might happen to me is in my mind, only the thought that I will be with Jack again, that he will keep me safe and free._

_I enter at the bottom of the grand staircase. Will he be here to meet me?_

_The tears begin to fall as I see Jack racing towards me. He does love me! I never doubted it, but just the thought of being apart from him makes the tears fall even harder. I love him so!_

"_Rose!" Jack cries, and I hear the love in his voice mixed with awe and kindness. I cry in his shoulder, and he kisses me hard on my lips, and I kiss him back. "You're so stupid, Rose!" he says, but I know he loves me. He grabs my hair and the side of my face, almost yelling, "Why'd you do that, huh?" He kisses me again. "You're so stupid, Rose!" Again, our lips meet, and I kiss him so hard I think I will smash them into my teeth. "Why did you do that, why?" he asks urgently._

_I can hear the sobs racking my body. My hands caress his face, then latch onto his shirt. "You jump, I jump, right?" I say the only words that come to mind, and they turn out to be perfect._

_He stares at me for a moment, smiling, knowing that I love him so. "Right," he says softly, his voice full of love for me._

_I kiss him again, and then he hugs me close. I don't care that I can't breath. "Oh, God!" I cry. "I couldn't go! I couldn't go, Jack."_

_He understands. "It's all right. We'll think of something else."_

"_At least I'm with you," I sobbed._

_Suddenly, Jack ducks and pushes me away. "Come on, Rose!" he yells, and the sound of a gunshot causes my insides to jump. Cal. I scream as I see Cal rushing down the stairs, a gun in his hand. I run after Jack, knowing he will lead me to safety. I follow Jack, and I see the cold ocean water already filling the very bottom of the staircase. I don't even think twice. I splash into the arctic water. Gunshots spew the water beside me, and I duck, letting out a small cry. What is wrong with Cal?_

"_Move, Rose, move! Come on, Rose! Move! Go!" Jack yells. He is the only thing keeping me going, for the frosty water is already freezing my joints. I run as fast as I can, but I know it might not be good enough. Glass shatters as a shot is fired. Now we run through the dining room, and I am surprised to see that it has not filled with water yet, but I am thankful for the dryness nonetheless. We come to a small alcove, and hide. I can hear nothing but the frantic beating of my own heart._

_A sudden wailing reaches our ears. A child is standing alone next to a door as the water slowly seeps into the hall. Jack grabs him up, but both of our exits seem to be blocked. A man, the boy's father, grabs him from Jack, but he's going the wrong way! We scream at him, but it is no use! The door breaks, and icy water pours in torrents down the hall. Jack pushes me forward, yelling at me to run, but the water is closing!_

_It knocks me off my feet, and coldness of it takes my breath away. I slide down the hall, calling to Jack, when my plight is suddenly stopped by another iron gate. I cry out as I slam into it and see Jack do the same._

"_Over here!" he yells, and I follow up the steps, once again, free of the water. But it never seems to stop. It rushes after us like a tidal wave as we ascend the steps as fast as our frozen legs can carry us. For a while, we seem to be out of its clutches. The ship is bent at a most inconvenient angle as we force our legs forward. Jack grabs a lifebelt from one of the tables and hands it to me. I fumble with it, finally getting it right as I stumble after Jack. We step onto the main deck and run for the back of the ship, finally looking out over the edge. I couldn't believe my eyes. The back of the ship was rising out of the water._

_Jack makes way for us as we plunge with the rest of the passengers to the back of the ship. We grab onto the back rail and Jack presses himself against me, holding me close with all of his strength._

"_Jack!" I cry. "This is where we first met!" My voice sounds strangely hysterical._

_The back of the ship continues to rise, and I call out Jack's name, my insides freezing with fear. What is happening! My heart screams for this all to be over, so I grasp Jack's hand harder, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. As long as I am with Jack, I know we will get through things, but I can't help the fear that courses through my veins like poison as the ship's end continues to rise up._

_Suddenly, the _Titanic_ groans and shutters. I can hear people constantly crashing into the water, and their frightened screams. The ship gives one mighty heave, and I can feel it start to break. I scream and press myself to Jack as the back of the ship falls back into the water. When it hits, I am almost jolted from the rail. But Jack holds me tight._

_But the horror isn't over yet. Again, the back rises, faster this time. I crush myself to the rail, and Jack's voice echoes into my ear._

"_We have to move!" he says desperately._

"_I can't!" I scream._

"_I've got you. Don't worry."_

_So I give Jack my hand, and slowly, he helps me over the rail. As soon as I lay down, my stomach flip-flops. We are completely vertical in the air, and I am staring down at the angry, hungry waters of the Atlantic Ocean. I give a small scream, and Jack places his arm over my back, pressing close to me. His body is warm, and I would feel safe if not for the eminent danger in front of my eyes. I have no desire to go back into the water._

_The ship shudders as the bow pulls us down faster and faster. Jack turns to me. "When I say, take a deep breath and kick for the surface. Never let go of my hand! And keep kicking!"_

_I nod, barely able because of the fear that has finally gripped every part of me. There is no way we will be able to survive this. After all we have survived together, Jack and I will not be able to escape this one. I am afraid to die, but so long as I am in Jack's arms, I will be able to face death. I do not want to die, but I do not have a choice. I can see so many people already, plunging to their freezing deaths. I breathe with difficulty because of the fear._

_Jack looks at me. "Don't give up on me. We're going to make it, Rose! Trust me!" He sounds so brave, so sure._

"_I trust you!"_

_He turns back to the water, yelling, "Breathe!"_

_I take a deep breath before I am completely enclosed in water. It freezes my mind and my joints, but only for a moment. Suddenly, I seem to be able to think, and I kick with all of my might, never letting go of Jack's hand. But my fingers are freezing, and Jack is slipping away!_

_A fear greater than anything I have ever felt seizes me as Jack swirls away from me, but my head finally breaks water, and I suck in a deep breath. "Jack!" my agonized scream is barely heard above the tumult of other voices. "Jack!" I scream again. "Oh, Jack! Jack!" I start to swim._

_I pass a man floundering in the water, when he suddenly takes hold of my head and pushes me under water. I flail my arms. No! He can't do that! I am able to take a small breath before he pushes me down again. I break water again, but only one sound came out of my mouth._

"_Jack!"_

"_Rose!"_

_I can see him swimming towards me. But the man covers my face, holding onto me for support._

"_Get off her! Get off her!" Jack yells. I don't know why, but I am glad of the jealousy and anger I hear in his voice. I feel water splash by my face, and I hear Jack's fist meet the face behind me. Three more times Jack's fist hits the man before he finally lets go of my hair. Jack grabs the strap of my lifebelt._

"_Follow me, Rose! I need you to swim!" I can barely hear him over the pandemonium of voices. But I swim as fast as I can, though my face is freezing and my lips are turning blue. I can feel myself shivering uncontrollably, but I'd rather be here and cold with Jack than anywhere else without him._

"_It's so cold!" I whimper, but he pulls me harder. I can feel the desperation in his hands._

"_Just swim, Rose!" He keeps pulling me towards something, and my hopes start to rise. He points to a long board that is still intact; it looks like a door. "Here, get on it," he insists, and I try to pull myself up, but the water is too cold. Jack helps, and finally, I am not in the water anymore. Jack tries to get on the board, too, but he starts to pull it over. He gets off and lets me stay. How cold he must be!_

"_Jack," I whisper as I hear his defeated sigh. Our breath steams in the night air as he moves to the front of the board, close to my face. I grab his hand and kiss it._

"_You'll be all right now," he says as he touches his forehead to mine. I barely notice how cold his is, because mine is just as frigid. But having him here… gives me strength. A whistle pierces the noise, and a shipman calls for the lifeboats to come back. I hear other people cry for them as well, but I can't say anything. I'm too weak. "The boats will be coming back for us, Rose. Just hold on a little bit longer," Jack urges._

_I can barely nod, but I do, then rest my head on Jack's arm. I want to sleep. I am so tired. I can feel snow forming in the locks of my hair, freezing it to my face and back. My wet clothes don't help the situation much, but I don't think about that. All I can think about is Jack. He looks so cold! He, too, has ice in his hair, in his eyebrows, and his lips are a startling shade of blue. But his eyes are still the same. I close mine, and listen to his voice shudder and falter with the cold._

"_It's getting quiet," I whisper, and indeed it is. I can't hear the frantic splashes and voices as I had before, of which I am grateful, but it strikes fear in my heart as well. When are the boats coming back? I can feel life slipping away from me as the water turns me to ice inside and out. But what about Jack? I am sure this is happening to him, too. But I have to tell him before I die._

"_I love you, Jack."_

_His gaze shifts to me, and I stare into his eyes. Though he is cold, I can see the small fire still left in his heart blazing through his eyes. "Don't you do that," he pleads. "Don't you say your good-byes. Do you understand me?"_

"_I'm so cold," I protest._

"_Listen, Rose. You're gonna live. You're live until you're old and wrinkled, and you're going to die in a nice warm bed. But not here. Not this night. Not like this. Do you understand me?"_

_It is hard to believe Jack, but I make myself believe him. It is so easy to believe, to hope, that he is right. How I hope it is so! But a strange feeling is starting to take over me._

"_I can't feel my body."_

"_Listen, Rose," Jack shivers, "winning that ticket was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you—" his eyes light up, and a smile caresses his face "—and I'm thankful for that, Rose."_

_I feel a few tears drift down my icy cheeks. But Jack isn't finished._

"_You must promise me that you'll survive, that you won't give up no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise."_

_His words pierce my heart worse than the fear, worse than the water that is claiming my body, because I can tell he is giving up. My Jack cannot give up! I can't let him! But my throat is clogged with tears and I cannot utter a word. I can feel a strange ache, a pain rippling through me as if the _Titanic_ of my heart has snapped in two._

_Finally, I find my voice. "I promise."_

"_And never let go."_

"_I will never let go, Jack," I sob. "I'll never let go."_

_He kisses my hand, and I sob on his cold arm. I can barely think, can barely do anything for the pain and coldness that has seized my body. I lay on my back, gazing at the stars, singing softly. My hand still grasps Jack's; I will never let go of him. But, I hear something. No words, just noise. I look up, and a lit cascades onto my face. I try to wake Jack, but he won't move. He won't move!_

Jack! Jack, no! _my mind screams. Many tears fall over my cheeks this time. Is he alive? Is he all right at all? The tears course down my face. My Jack. I cannot lose him! He has to be alive! I cannot live without him! I look up, and the boat is rowing away! I have to save myself, to keep my promise to him. I have to. I promised him. I promised him._

_I slip off of the door, stuttering as I feel the water grip me in its clutches. But it won't win this time. Not with me. I am living. I promised Jack I would. I have to live if only for Jack. I grab the whistle from the cold, dead shipman's fingers, blowing on it a few times. My voice is harsh and weak from the cold; I can't speak loud enough. I blow and blow, and finally, the whistle works. The men in the boat turn around, and row towards me. Jack and I are saved. We're saved._

_They haul me aboard, and though I am weak, I point them to Jack. It doesn't matter if he is… dead. He deserves a proper burial. And I will give him one when I harbor in New York. Jack deserves at least that much. He deserves so much more, more than I could ever have given him, but I suddenly realize as I look into his stone-cold face that I was all he ever wanted. His face looks peaceful, and a small smile is on his blue lips. It looks like he is saying my name. Rose._

_My tears fall from my eyes and onto him as the men row away from the scene of all these deaths. My heart aches and grieves for these men and women. But it aches more for Jack, my love. He was my only love, and the only love I'll ever have. I will never love again. Not as long as I am granted to live._

_But the cold is too overwhelming. I am placed next to Jack, and I hug myself to him, gazing blankly up at the sky, never blinking, never breathing. It is as if everything inside of me has died and I have nothing to live for, save the promise I made Jack. I barely notice as daybreak shines over the Atlantic Ocean, which was once a memory of peace and serenity and love with Jack, that has now become a nightmare and a horror that I never want to revisit for as long as I live._

_I don't feel the hands that lift Jack and me from the lifeboat. Someone says his name, and I tilt my head to listen, but my ears are full of water. I would not have been able to listen anyway. I am almost gone; I can feel the sleep of hypothermia taking over, and I am glad for it to be over. I do not want nightmares of this night to plague my mind and being. I want to die and be with Jack. I am screaming to be with Jack._

I woke up screaming. My breath was coming in quick gasps, and I was chilled all over, though I had a comforter on my bed. I glanced at the clock. It was 2:40 on the morning of April 15, 1913. It had only been a year since I had been on that dreadful ship: the _Titanic_. I still remember it as if it had happened yesterday.

I rubbed my arms. I was freezing cold, no doubt because my dream had been so real. I felt tears once again prick my eyes. My heart ached and bled as I mourned for Jack and the night he had died. I didn't even remember how I had lived. All I could remember was that I _was_ alive, and I was hiding on the third class deck to get away from Cal and Mother, who I never wanted to see again.

I glanced at a black and white photo of me astride a horse. I had been crying the whole time I was riding the horse, but not because I was afraid. But because Jack had told me we would do it, and I had promised him I would. I felt the sobs come even harder. Every night for the past four days I kept having memories of what happened a year ago, and I was tired of the anguish, tired of the tears and pain that kept me from doing my work. I had shared so much with Jack. I had given him my life. Why couldn't he have lived? Why did I have to go on, and he had to stay behind?

I cradled myself against the bed. _Oh, Jack! How I wish you were here!_ I cried to myself. _I don't know what to do! I miss you so much! Jack, come back to me! Jack!_ Tears were soaking my pillowcase, but I didn't care. My heart screamed for relief from this pain, for Jack to come back and save me again. But Jack was gone, and there was nothing like the one-year anniversary of the ship's tragedy to remind me of how painful it had been living without Jack. He had been my life, my everything.

My fingers crawled to my throat where I felt a heavy stone. Though I couldn't see it, I could feel it and imagine it. The stone was blue, a deep ocean blue diamond surrounded by hundreds of smaller white diamonds that wound around the chain. I fingered it absently, feeling my heart pump with adrenaline as I remembered the first time I ever wore it. I held the diamond in my palm. Ever since I had found it in my pocket when I had harbored in New York, I wore it every night while I slept, so I could remember Jack.

I had stopped shaking, but I knew my pain would never be over. I would never forget Jack, nor would I forget what happened on _Titanic_. It is my past, my present, my future. I will never forget Jack. _I could never forget._


	2. Chapter 2: Daily Routine

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Titanic or any of the movie characters/scenes.**

2. Daily Routine

I was ready for work at 3:30 in the morning, but I knew I didn't have to be there until seven. I didn't have anything else to do. I could reflect on the memories, but I didn't want to do that. I tried to never remember what happened on the _Titanic_. It was bad for me, and I would lose my job if I were late to work once more. These past few days had been almost as bad as living in _Titanic_ once more. The worst of my dreams had plagued my sleep, causing restlessness and poor work.

My mouth twitched in a wry smile. Mother would simply cry at the state I was in—that is if she could see me. I was working as a seamstress, something Mother had always frowned upon. But Jack had taught me that there was nothing wrong with hard, honest work. In fact, I was grateful for it. It kept my mind and concentration occupied, so I barely had time to think of Jack at all. I didn't know if most of our "precious" things had been sold yet, and I frankly didn't care. Money did not matter to me.

My fingers played with the silk fabric of my dress. Without looking in the mirror, I knew what it looked like. The white under dress was slightly embroidered with lace, and a pale, see-through lavender silk draped over the dress. A white and baby pink sash was wrapped around my waist, its tails flowing down my back. I remembered when I had worn this. It was after the portrait that Jack had drawn of me. A small smile touched my lips. He had liked this dress. He had told me I looked nice. I knew this dress was a little too fancy for my line of work, since I was supposed to be third class. But I had still kept many of my first class dresses. I would never give them away. Each held a memory of a time I had been with Jack.

Slowly, I pinned my hair into a bun. My red curls attempted to escape the pins, but I made sure they were pinned. Nobody really believed me that I was third class; they all said my face was too pretty and my hair too fine. I had saved up most of my earnings though, which wasn't much, but could be considered second class at least. I tried to get as much extra pay as possible, not for myself, but because I had made a promise. I threw my hands in the air. How petty it sounded—that I was living only because of a promise I had made! But it was all I had. It was all I needed to stay alive.

Sometime later, I checked the clock. It was now six in the morning, and I sighed. I should get to work early so they didn't have an excuse to fire me. I placed my shoes on slowly; the pain in my chest was growing unbearable. Everything of mine reminded me some way or other of Jack. I had spent most of my waking moments with him on that tragic ship—waking moments of sheer joy that are now painful memories.

I lifted my head and wiped my tears with the back of my hand. It was time to face reality, to push the thoughts that tormented me out of my mind. I swallowed with difficulty, my mouth dry and tasteless. I stood from the bed and moved to the kitchen, spotting a bowl of fruit. I picked one up, but I didn't eat it. I hadn't been eating lately because of the dreams that had gotten steadily worse, and I was only a little paler. I knew I would have to eat sometime or another, but I just couldn't stomach anything.

The sun was rising as I walked out of my small apartment. My breath caught in my throat; this sunrise captivates me, as most do. But this one is different. It is not my normal sunrise: cool breezes that caress my face, as if I can feel Jack's smooth hands on my cheeks. This sunrise is different: the air is harsh and cold, chilling to the bone. It lashes at my skin in quick bursts, but I face it bravely. It is as if the remnants of the night of _Titanic_ have come back to haunt me on this day. I stretched my lips into a line, looking down as I walked to the seamstress store.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, the wind stopped and became a gentle breeze. I didn't dare think of Jack any longer; I had to get tuned to the job that awaited me, else I _would_ be fired. Without thinking, I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't get fired. I had promised to make a living for myself, and I would do that. As much as Jack's memory murdered and seared me, I would do it for him.

Light was tinting everything with a golden touch, and I smiled. I did like New York. It was a good place to work, and ever since the tragedy, I had never had much liking for warmer places. I didn't know why the warmth didn't appeal to me, since I hated being cold and the memory of the ocean next to me were so vivid. But it also seemed as if I couldn't escape the cold. It was with me wherever I went, and it was now a part of me—to be cold and lifeless most of the time.

I finally spotted the seamstress shop. Relief washed over me. I would be preoccupied now; Jack would not enter my thoughts all day. Usually, his memory never haunted me during the day, but he was always there at night plaguing my dreams. I knew my body wanted a fix from the pain, from the memories. I knew I would never become calloused to Jack's memory, but I hoped the pain would subside and become a small twinge in the deepest part of my mind.

The bell rang as the top of the door bumped against it as I entered. I was fifteen minutes early, and the manager seemed pleasantly surprised. She liked the way I sewed and fashioned dresses, but she had to keep up her reputation. If I wasn't able to come in on time from now on, I would be fired. I was desperate for anything to keep Jack away—especially in this time of year—that I would even stay overnight. Maybe it would keep the worst of my memories away.

"Rose?" my manager, Catherine Davenport, asked. She had a note of worry and concern in her voice, and I turned to look at her. Her hair was silver gray and pulled into a loose bun, but there were few wrinkles on her skin considering her age. "Rose, dear, whatever is the matter?"

I couldn't speak, so I looked at the floor.

"Rose."

I looked back up at Cathy, and I knew I had no choice but to tell her. "I… I didn't sleep well last night. I… I had a dream…" I whisper.

Cathy sucked in a breath. "It is the anniversary, isn't it?" I nodded, and she continued. "It was about him, wasn't it? About the wreck?" Again, I could only nod, but Cathy took hold of my shoulders. "Rose, listen to me. I have seen what these memories, or dreams are doing to you. You've got to let them go."

Without my knowledge, I realized my head was shaking. "I can't," I whisper, fresh tears pouring down my cheeks. "I can't forget him…" The agony in my voice is strange to hear; I had talked little this year, especially of what had happened the year before. My voice sounded strange even to myself.

"Rose," Cathy said again. I looked up at her, though my vision was blurred from tears. There was a strange look in her eyes, like she knew, like she had been on the _Titanic_. "I know what you are going through." She had become like a mother to me, but she knew my pain? How? She didn't hesitate to answer my internal question.

"My daughter and I lived in England. I had to travel ahead of her because of the cost of tickets, but when tickets came to sail on the newest, fastest boat… well, I couldn't refuse her. I scraped enough money to send her so she could buy a ticket. She went as a third class passenger, and then the ship was attacked by pirates. She didn't make it."

I remembered how little of the third class on _Titanic_ had actually lived. Cathy continued. "They were able to recover her body." I could hear the ancient pain in Cathy's voice, and I looked into her eyes. I knew she felt my pain, and I loved her even more for it. "For months I mourned, and I won't say it was easy learning to live past what had happened. She had been my only child." Cathy's voice was now down to a whisper. She sniffed slightly, then patted my shoulders. I could tell that tears were brimming in her eyes. "Get some sleep, Rose. Maybe you'll sleep better here."

I nodded, unable to refuse her offer, because I was extremely tired. But I was afraid to go to sleep. What would I dream of? What would haunt me now? I sighed. I would be worse, though, if I didn't get any sleep.

Cathy's room was in the back, and it was almost dark in the room. I lay on her bed, gazing up at the ceiling as I had when I was cold and frozen in the Atlantic. I closed my eyes, images starting to form beneath my lids before I was fully asleep.

_The afternoon sun is warm as its light plays on my face, warming me from the chilly Atlantic air. Captain Smith is giving us a tour of the _Titanic_, and he walks in front of me. Mr. Andrews, the designer of the ship, walks next to me, willingly explaining the technical details of the ship. I am very interested at how _Titanic_ came to be, and Mr. Andrews is astounded that I show so much inquisitiveness. I smile as we talk some more, and Mother and Cal walk past me. I am slightly confused at something that Mr. Andrews said, but I start to hurry after him. Everyone is ahead of me._

_A hand suddenly taps me, then gently but firmly turns me around. Jack! He starts to pull me towards a door, one that leads to the gym, but I look back. Mother had told me to stay away from him. What if she sees us? I would be in so much trouble. But Jack is not to be denied, and I cannot say that I don't want to follow him._

"_Jack," I say as he closes the door behind us. "This is impossible." I hesitate, then force the words out of my mouth. "I can't see you." I try to walk away, but he holds my arm and I can feel a wall at my back._

"_I need to talk to you," he says urgently, taking off his hat._

"_No, Jack, no," I warn. I look away, and I feel shame as I say this, but I must. "Jack, I'm engaged. I'm marrying Cal. I love Cal." I try to sound convincing, but I know my face betrays my words._

_Jack remains undaunted, and the look on his face is one of… love. "Rose, you're no picnic. You're a spoiled little brat, even," he smiles, his eyes lit with a fire I never knew was possible. His blue eyes burn into mine, and I can't look away. "But, under that, you're the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl—woman that I've ever known."_

_I can't believe what he is saying! It is everything I want to hear, but for some reason, my ears and heart don't want to hear it. "Jack, I…" I start, turning away, but he follows, his hands grasping at the shawl I wear over my dress. I stop and turn._

"_No, let me try and get this out! You're amazing…" his voice fades, and I can see in his eyes that he truly means what he says. It does seem difficult for him as he struggles to get the words out. I wait patiently, and finally he continues. "I'm not an idiot. I know how the world works. I've got ten bucks in my pocket. I have nothing to offer you, and I know that. I understand, but I'm too involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowing you'll be all right." His face suddenly changes, and I see sadness creep onto his boyish features. "That's all that I want."_

_I force my voice to sound bored, though it is poorly done. "Well, I'm fine. I'll be fine, really."_

"_Really?" Jack challenges. My eyes rove his nervously. His remain unmoving, staring intently into mine. "I don't think so. They've got you trapped, Rose, and you're going to die if you don't break free! Maybe not right away because you're strong, but sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose—" his hand reaches up gently to touch my face, and my breathing grows louder. His skin is so soft. "… that fire is going to burn out." I have never seen such intensity on his face before._

_I swallow with difficulty. "It's not up to you to save me, Jack."_

"_You're right," he whispers. "Only you can do that."_

_Tears of shame and guilt form in my eyes. I don't want to do it, but I have to. I reach up and put my fingers over his. They linger there for a moment, but I come back to reality. I pull his hand away from my face. "I'm going back," I say, my voice threatening to break. "Leave me alone." I walk away to keep Jack from seeing my tears of guilt, and thankfully, he doesn't follow._

_I make it to the tearoom, but I am not myself. The conversation has never interested me, and it doesn't now. I glance over, seeing a small girl and her mother sitting at a table. She is teaching her daughter to sit up straight and the way to unfold a napkin. Suddenly, I remember when Mother did that with me. That was when… that was when I had ceased to be Rose Dewitt Bukator. I had become something different: the materialistic, first class girl that I was raised to be. For seventeen years I have been this way, for as long as I can remember at least, but suddenly, I long to be back with Jack. I need to be back with Jack. Nothing can replace the love I know he has for me. Not money, not class, not reputation. I realize now that love is something you cannot buy; it is given freely or not at all._

_I excuse myself from tea, much to Mother's surprise, and walk out of the tearoom. I see a group of third class men on the deck, two of who look familiar. I make my way over to them. I wring my hands as I go to speak to them; they are staring at me, but I as I step closer I recognize Fabrizio. Jack has told me about him, and the other man I had seen at the Irish party Jack had taken me to, but I don't know his name._

_Fabrizio moves forward and holds out his hand. "Miss Rose!" he looks surprised and happy to see me. I can't help but smile back._

_The other man, the one I don't know, holds out his hand as well. "I'm Tommy Ryan," he says in a thick Irish brogue. I smile and repeat my name. "You lookin' for Jack?" I nod, slightly embarrassed, but they seem rather intrigued._

"_I think he is by the bow, no?" Fabrizio answers, and I thank him, moving away from the stern and towards the bow. The sun is getting lower in the sky, but the sound of the waves makes the sunset even more beautiful. Finally, I make my way up to the bow, and sure enough, Jack is there. He leans on the rail, apparently deep in thought, and I silently step closer to him. A strange song, a beautiful and mesmerizing song wafts from the top decks; it is barely audible, but it completes the strange magic that seems to charge the air around me, making it even more alluring._

"_Hello, Jack," I say softly. He whirls around, and I don't miss the wonder and happiness that lights his eyes. I shrug, saying, "I changed my mind." It really was the only thing I could say, but his smile grows. My heart skips a beat, and I catch my breath before walking closer to him. "They said you might be up here—"_

"_Shh." Jack puts his finger to his lips, and confusion colors my face. But he leans forward, his wonderful smile still playing on his lips. "Give me your hand," he says, reaching out to me. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I put my hand in his. He pulls me closer, a mysterious look coming into his eyes. I am not afraid of it; in fact, I am mesmerized by it. "Close your eyes." The command was so unexpected I don't do anything for a moment. "Go on," he urges, and with a sigh, I close them._

_The music from the deck still plays, causing my heart to flutter under my ribcage. It doesn't make things any better that Jack is so close to me, and my eyes are closed, unable to see anything he is doing. But I trust him._

_I feel him move to my left, placing his hand firmly and gently on my back, causing my heart to jump. "Step up," he says, helping me up as I step onto the small platform. "Now hold on to the railing." I wonder at the mystery in his voice, but a sudden playfulness lights his tone. "Keep your eyes closed. Don't peak."_

"_I'm not," I smile and reassure him._

"_Now step up onto the railing," he says softly. Carefully, I place one foot on the railing, still unsure of what I am doing. But I feel Jack behind me, and I know I am safe. Once my other foot is on the rail, I feel him move behind me. I stand slowly, unsure if I will fall. I am now too tall to hold onto the rail, but I can feel a rope beside me, and I take hold of it. "Hold on. Hold on." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Keep your eyes closed," he smiles, and for some reason, I find his secrecy intriguing. "Do you trust me?" he asks._

"_I trust you."_

_He takes my hands from the post, trying to spread them out. I hesitate, but slowly go with his arms as he proceeds to spread mine out. I can only guess where I am, but I have still kept my eyes closed. He lets go of my hands and places them on my waist. "All right," he whispers, his mouth suddenly close to my ear. "Open your eyes."_

_I gasp in astonishment at the view that meets my eyes. I am standing at the very bow of the _Titanic_ with almost no ship in front of me, only the sea and the waves and the sun. The sensation is different than any I've ever known. My arms feel like wings as I gaze at the sun kissed ocean in front of me. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen._

"_I'm flying! Jack!" I gasp as I stare at the golden blue ocean in front of me. I lean onto Jack's chest, completely at ease, and I feel him lean slightly into me to keep me from falling back. His gentle hands keep me steady on the rail._

_Jack moves his hands from my waist to entwine them with my fingers. "Come, Josephine in my flying machine," he starts to sing, and I laugh with him, "going up, she goes. Up, she goes…" I close my eyes, feeling the wind glide through my hair and blow it back from my face. I feel weightless, like I'm floating… like I truly am flying._

_I bring my hands back to my waist and turn to look at Jack. The sun has touched his face, his tan wonderfully lit, his dirty blond hair glazed with golden light. His eyes look like blue fire, and I swallow nervously as I see him start to lean in towards me. My heart pounds painfully under my chest until his lips caress mine; then my heart stops completely. It jumps to a start as he presses his lips harder against mine, and my hand instinctively rises to the back of his neck. My fingers stroke through his soft, wind-blown hair as his arms tighten around my waist…_

A small gasp escaped my lips; I was staring at the ceiling, which was still dark. I propped myself on my elbows, glancing around me. I felt strangely rested and happy, as if Jack were here again. Suddenly, I remembered my dream, and I smiled. That was my favorite memory to dream, although all of them were sometimes painful, especially at a time like this. But I smiled to myself, putting a hand to my lips. I could almost feel the remainder of Jack's kiss, as if his lips were still touching mine. I bit my bottom lip to keep a smile from spreading, but it didn't work. And I didn't mind that it didn't. For the first time this week I had dreamt about Jack and there wasn't any pain.

I lifted myself off of the bed, inwardly thanking Cathy for allowing me to use it. A strange thought entered my mind: maybe, if Cathy was willing, I could stay here for a while. It seemed as if a different place—other than my room—brought out the good memories of Jack, the ones that always had tears streaking down my cheeks, but they were tears of happiness. I sighed to control my emotions.

Every time my eyes closed, Jack was there in my dreams. Even though that caused me pain in the morning when I realized he wasn't here, I didn't want it any other way. I would rather dream of Jack than anything else in the world.

A light chatter greeted me as I walked down the stairs. I hadn't moved from when I had lay down, so I didn't look like I slept. Susan and Melody, two friends— who were more acquaintances, really—were sitting in the sewing room, chatting amiably while they worked on various gowns. I quickly fingered with my hair, making sure my pins were in place. Only one was loose, and I hurriedly put it back into place. I stepped off of the last stair with a small smile on my face, which was rare. I almost never smiled now, but it was a surprise for me, too, because I actually _felt_ happy. Susan and Melody, along with the other three ladies there, looked up from their work to gaze at me questionably. I didn't know what to say, but Cathy saved me.

"All right, ladies, back to work. Rose was just helping me mend a hole in my comforter." Cathy turned to me, her eyes trying to tell me what she meant. "Thank you, Rose, dear. If ever I need you again, I shall call."

I smiled and dipped my head. "You're welcome, Miss Davenport." I walked to my box and took a seat beside Susan and Melody, the wedding dress I was working on spread out in front of me. Melody turned to me first.

"You're not going to get fired?" Her brown eyes were intense, and today her rich, thick brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, moving when she did.

I gave a small laugh and shook my head. "I was on time this morning."

Susan smiled widely. I marveled at how much she and Melody looked alike. They were sisters, of course, but Susan was a year older. Melody was my age. "Well, good for you," Susan whispered emphatically. "I'd hate to see you get fired, especially since you are such a good seamstress."

I thanked her and continued with my work, listening to their conversation. They knew I didn't talk much, and just liked to listen to their voices. I had told them only a little bit about _Titanic_, and to my relief, they had understood and never taken offense if ever I seemed off or sad. Sewing the dress took most of my work hours, but it was almost finished. Being of good spirit had set me up for a successful day; only a few stitches more to make sure everything was accounted for would be enough.

I decided to stay late so I could finish the dress. It wasn't too late in the evening, only five o'clock. Cathy always made sure we women had plenty of daylight to walk in; she knew the streets were dangerous at night. I didn't much care what would happen to me; but the part of me that was stronger, the part that had promised Jack, would not let me forsake his promise. I was almost glad; though it was just a promise, it gave me something to live for.

Cathy sat next to me. "Rose, did that nap help?"

I had always thought that Cathy had been strict and cruel; she worked us hard to get the dresses done. But she had the only dress shop that was ever on time. But as I looked into her face, I knew she wasn't the slightest bit strict or cruel. She was caring and loving, and her brown eyes showed the depths of her concern. I had never told anyone about _Titanic_ except Cathy, and even then she only knew that I had lived through a terrible tragedy. But she didn't know how terrible.

I felt the sudden urge to tell her, to be truthful. I knew now that she would understand. She had told me about her daughter; though she might have left out how much it had hurt her to see her daughter dead. I had to tell someone, to get it off of my chest. Then maybe my dreams would be what had been best about _Titanic_, not what was worse.

"Cathy," I began, my voice a whisper and my eyes to the floor. I gathered up my courage, and started to spill it out. "Cathy, the nap did help, but I have to tell you about what happened, why I have been late—"

"Rose, I don't think—" she began, but I cut her off.

"Please! I need to tell someone." My eyes begged as I looked into her wise eyes. She hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you. Well, what I need to tell you is this: I was ingaged before sailing on the _Titanic_. I hated the man, but my mother wouldn't let me break off the engagement. I felt as if no one cared about me, so I tried to kill myself the first night I was on the ship." I laughed at the memory of Jack calling me crazy, and I looked at the floor. Tears were already soaking my lap.

"Then, someone saved me. He knew I wouldn't jump, which was true, but I just remember the look in his eyes…" I stopped. _Stick to the story_, I scolded myself. _She doesn't want to know about how you felt_. "Anyway, he saved me that night. My fiancée asked him to dinner, where he even more charming than I knew anyone could be. He was joining us from the third class, but that didn't matter to me. It was as if I had found someone who cared, who would look out for me. He had to leave after dinner, but brought me too a party below deck, where most of the third class members were." I laughed, and my heart swelled with happiness from another time. "I had so much fun! I knew how to dance a waltz, but I didn't have a clue about how to dance like they did! The music was so… exhilarating, and I was so glad when Jack didn't know how to dance either! I was scared to death when he took us to the main floor, but I surprised even myself by knowing how to dance one of their jigs. It was the most fun I had had in years.

"The next day, my mother forbade me to see him. I was afraid of what my fiancée would do, considering I had just witnessed his bad temper. Jack came to me, but I pushed him away. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But later, I found that I couldn't stay away. I found him at the bow, and he had me climb up. There was nothing in front of me but ocean, and I felt… free." My dream still lingered around me like a halo, but I knew it would soon go out.

"I spent the rest of the night with him, but we ended up getting separated just as the ship was sinking. It was so hard… trying to find him. The water was so cold…" I flinched as the darkness of my last dream clouded over me. That memory haunted me, and was still fresh, even a year later. The tears had stopped, but they started again, this time tears of horror. "We were caught on the boat, and the stern was drawn vertical. Twice. One man even tried to use me as something to keep him afloat, but Jack… again he saved me.

"I don't know how long—minutes, hours maybe?—Jack and I lay in the water, but a boat finally came back. I… I didn't know if he was alive. He wasn't moving, but I made the officers get him anyway, so I could bury him properly. Before I could though, they informed me that he had to be kept in the coronary's room in the New York hospital. After that, I couldn't even bear to look at his face without…" I cleared my throat and turned to Cathy. "I'm sorry. I just needed to tell someone…"

I was shocked to find tears in her eyes. She just pulled me closer, hugging me tightly. I hugged her back as she sniffled and sobbed. I rubbed my hand on her back, hoping to sooth her. It seemed to work.

"Forgive me," Cathy choked. "My daughter…" Suddenly, I understood, and it all made sense. "Rose, my daughter was so much like you…" For a moment, Cathy attempted a smile. "I can't fire you can I? You're the only person who knows what I have been through!"

I smiled and hugged her again. I closed my eyes and sighed. I felt as if I had been in a hole, and Cathy had thrown me a rope to help me out. I couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to have someone know what happened, and to be able to empathize with me. I never liked talking to other survivors. In fact, if we were together, we didn't talk at all. _Titanic_ had left a wound in every person's heart that had survived. It had affected everyone differently.

Cathy smiled and wiped her tears, patting my shoulder. "Go, Rose. Thank you for trusting me with… Well, if you would ever like to see any pictures of my daughter, just let me know. I'll be happy to share them."

I smiled and stood from my seat. "Thank you, Cathy. For everything," I murmured as I walked out of the door, an hour later than when I was usually done. The sun was turning the sky magnificent shades of pink, blue, purple, yellow and red; a sunset that looked just like the one in my dream when Jack…

I dipped my head. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to visit the graveyard reserved specifically for the people who had died as a result of _Titanic_. I quickly bought some flowers, placing my shawl over my head. It was becoming a little chilly, and I needed to change my outfit. I always visited the graveyard in black.

I hope you liked it! Please read and review! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3: Stranger in the Graveyard

"My wife in practice if not yet by law, so you will honor me

This chapter was a little hard to get going, so please bear with me! There will probably be a lot of fluff, but still, please read and review! I love reviews!

3. Stranger in the Graveyard

I hesitated as I stood at the entrance to the graveyard. There were so many gravestones… I knew there were at least fifteen hundred stones rising from the ground, but not all of them had been filled. Most were labeled "anonymous-third class". I felt a tear course down my cheeks as I began to walk through the graveyard. How many third class people had died? More than the first class, that was for sure.

I glanced at the sky. The setting sun was hidden behind on coming clouds, casting a darker look to the coming night. I adjusted the black lace veil over my head as the wind began to pick up. It was always cold here. There was almost never a warm day in this part of town. Was it because this tragedy was defined by cold? Or did the coldness of my own heart cast the shadow I saw? Whatever the reason, I felt the wind as it lashed at me, stripping away any warmth I had left. I shivered, an apt response to a place so desolate, so full of decay and pain.

The names of the third class jumped out at me, seeming to strike at the edges of my heart, tearing away the callousness I had tried to build. I felt a hole in my heart for each of these people I didn't know that had perished, but the names of first class men and women who had died remained unseen by my eyes. I paused at one gravestone, and the inscription sent a wave of despair crashing through me. It was the grave of Cora Cartmel and her father. The small girl had been so full of life. She had been dancing with that one night…

Finally, after wandering through most of the graveyard, I found the stone I was looking for. I knew the words before I read them. Though there was no name, I could only guess that one of these could be Jack's grave. He was third class; the ticket he had held wasn't even his. No one knew who he was. No one even knew he had existed. But to me he was more real than the grim reality of the world in front of me. His words were truer than what anyone had told me. His touch was more electrifying than the storms that sometimes lighted the sky. His heart was purer than even the rarest of diamonds. To me he was everything.

I placed the small bouquet of flowers that I had picked at the bottom of the gray stone. Of all the places in this dismal graveyard, I would have picked this one. A dogwood tree spread its branches over the stone, its petals falling occasionally and framing the gravestone in white and pink. Jack would have loved to draw this place; I was sure of it. He would have captured everything just right. I fell to my knees as I remembered Jack's beautiful, life-capturing pictures. His hands were so talented; they had even drawn me once. But that wasn't the agony of my heart.

Every day I had come to this graveyard, hoping for an absolution that I knew would never come. Though he had died because of the water, I still felt that I was the reason for his premature death. He had stayed in the water because I was laying on the door, didn't he? He had gotten taken to the master-at-arms' office because I had been with him. Cal had done everything he could to hurt him. I had caused him to run after me when I had refused to go on the boat.

I heard a small piece of paper crinkle in the pocket of my dress. I quelled my tears as I pulled it out and looked over the small piece of paper. My eyes focused on the gravestone as the words escaped from my lips. I knew that they reflected the very emotions of my heart.

"Jack…" I whispered. "I'm dying to catch my breath. Oh, why don't I ever learn? I've lost all my trust, though I've surely tried to turn it around. Can you still see the heart of me? All my agony fades away when you hold me in your embrace. Don't tear me down for all I need. Make my heart a better place. Give me something I can believe. Don't tear me down; you've opened the door now. Don't let it close. I'm here on the edge again. I wish I could let it go. I know I'm only one step away from turning it around. Don't tear it down, what's left of me! Make my heart a better place. Please…"

I tried to steady myself against the sudden flow of emotion. After only a few minutes, I felt my misery slowly subside, and slide into the back of my mind. I sighed in relief. I was getting better at controlling the agony, but I knew this wouldn't last forever. Tonight, I knew, my misery would return to hurt me more viciously than before. I knew I couldn't escape it, not like I had earlier today. It would kill me tonight.

The conflict within me raged as I stared blankly at the grave. Did I really have to go on without Jack? Couldn't I just die myself and join him? Granted, I wouldn't kill myself, but I knew my tormented soul couldn't take much more of this. Would Jack be upset if I did die? Of course not. I'd be with him. We'd be together, with nothing to keep our love at bay, nothing like Cal or Mother to disapprove. We would be as happy as we had been those three glorious days aboard the _Titanic_. Tears slid silently down my cheeks. I could picture us together, but the realization that it was just that—a dream—stabbed at my heart. The force of it took my breath away.

Trying as best as I could, I dismissed the thoughts from my mind and started to look at the graves around me. I stood and walked around the cemetery as if I were in a trance. Most were third class, and I could see their names jump off of the stone they were engraved upon. I didn't know any of these people, but I knew the loss any of their relatives had gone through. They were simple names; the carvers wanted to make a distinction between the first and third class, such as John Adams and William Ali. There were no descriptions or comments of them, just names. I tried not to think what each of them had been. Owen Allum, Albert Andersen, Rossmore Abbott, Thomas Everett, Henry Hansen, brothers Jakob Johanson, Erik Johanson, and Gustaf Johanson, Malkolm Johnson, Henry Olsen, Thor Olsvigen, Edward Lockyer, Anthony Sage, Frederick Sawyer, Thomas Storey, and Ernest Tomlin were just a few of the third class men named.

I gasped as I noticed a few women had even been found. I knew most had survived, but these had remained. As much as I tried to hide it, a single tear trickled down my cheek. Katherine Buckley, Jenny Henriksson, Mary Mangan, Eileen McNamee, Margaret Rice, and Grace Charity Robins. I felt a catch in my throat. If not for Jack, my name would have been added to the list.

The sorrowful call of a bird broke through my thoughts, and I realized that the wind has stopped. I gasped in surprise as I saw that the sun still hadn't fully set, and through the clouds, a small light broke through, seeming to shine on the graveyard. I gazed around in wonder, looking back at the brilliant white dogwood petals bathing in much needed sun. The sun had never shone on this place, so I had no idea how wonderful and majestic this was. The grass was a rich shade of green; even the stones had begun to sparkle like diamonds. I smiled. I could feel the sun reaching through me, lighting my face and touching my heart with hope.

Suddenly, as if appearing by magic, a man was walking through the cemetery, his head down. The sun touched his hair, turning the dirty blond gold. I couldn't take my eyes off of this man as he trudged up the small hill. He was of slight build, and slumped over. His clothes were shabby and torn, but underneath I could see that he was filling out. His shoes had a hole in them, and I realized I was looking at a third class man. It was strange for me because he didn't look any older than twenty. The evening sun glinted off of his skin, and I still couldn't look away.

My own skin was pale, sallow, and sickly compared his. He looked healthy, despite the exhaustion and sadness that seemed to consume him. What was wrong? Was there a relative of his here that was buried? Or was the body still lost in the Atlantic—like with my case—and still hadn't been found?

The sun still shone on us, almost as if we were on spotlight. The black veil over my head hid my red hair from the sun, but looking at this man as he walked… I seemed to actually feel the sun on my pallid skin. He moved to walk by me, his eyes never wavering from the ground. As he passed me, an electric shock suddenly pulsed through my veins, and I gasped at the sudden rush of adrenaline. I turned as he continued walking away. Had I been the only one to feel the shock? But my mind ceased to think of it as I gazed at his back. Why did I feel as if I recognized the stained and tattered shirt underneath his heavy coat? His walk certainly didn't set himself apart from anyone else, though he did walk better than most of the third class.

The sun disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, but still I stared at his back as he walked up the hill. A cold wind tore at the pins in my hair, and I blinked. Quietly, sadly, I turned and stepped slowly through the opening to the graveyard. As I entered the streets, the night only seemed to get darker. Hardly anyone was on the streets at this time of night, and I pulled the veil tighter over my head to keep out the wind. I dipped my head, but raised it once more when I felt a small drop of rain tap my cheek. My home was past the shop where I worked. I would be completely soaked by the time I reached my apartment.

I splashed through the rain, hurrying as best as I could, though the thick skirts of my black dress didn't help me at all. I tripped several times, and twice I fell. I felt the gravel bite into the thin skin of my hands, and my teeth tore into my bottom lip to stop the cry that threatened to come. I stood slowly, all energy drained, to find myself near the bottom staircase that led to my apartment. A sudden weight in my pocket caused me to jump, and my hand searched it furtively, but there was nothing there. I slowly walked up the stairs, the memory of the last time I had stood in the rain flashing through my mind. I had no control over it.

_I stand in the rain, feeling it soak into my skin, though I am not as cold as I had been in the ocean. The rain is almost a comfort. I cannot look away from the Statue of Liberty as the _Carpathia_ sails into the New York harbor. My Jack—my beautiful Jack—is not here beside me to see this wonder, this green statue that somehow looks like the essence of what it stands for: freedom. How I want freedom from the doom and guilt that clouds my soul! Though Jack is gone, I feel a small flicker of hope. Maybe I can make it…_

_A man walks up to me, a clipboard in his hand and an umbrella dangling over his head. He speaks softly, and there is an earnest look in his eyes. "Can I take your name, please, Love?" I turn to look at him, and I can feel a thousand emotions playing across my face. I know what I want to say._

"_Dawson," I say, my voice sounding trancelike. "Rose Dawson."_

"_Thank you." I don't see him walk away; my eyes are back on Freedom. Jack would have loved to see it…_

_My fingers close around something… heavy. My brow furrows, and I pull my gaze away from the statue as I look at what my hand has closed around. Though no sound escapes my mouth, my lips part in utter shock and astonishment. The Heart of the Ocean rests in my hand, completely unscathed and glittering in the night-lights just as it would in the sun. How is this possible? Cal has the Heart of the Ocean. Obviously not though, since it rested in the palm of my hand, seeming almost at home. There is something else in Cal's coat; I can feel the bulkiness of it now. Why I hadn't felt it earlier baffles me, but as I look in the coat, air fills my dormant lungs and I gasp. Ten thousand dollars fills the three inside coat pockets; though it is crinkled with water, I know the money is not useless. Many people will still take any kind they can get._

_But my awe dissolves like sugar in water. I do not want Cal's money. I do not want anything to do with Cal. I despise the man, and thankfully, he thinks I am dead. A sudden thought rings through my head. If I sell the Heart of Ocean, Cal will definitely be able to find me, and that is the last thing I want. What if I were to keep it? There would be no harm in that. A wry smile twists my lips only slightly. It will remind me exclusively of Jack, though I do not need reminders at all. Every waking moment I have spent with him, every breath I took and didn't will be forever etched into my brain. My mind is the one thing one can see, and Jack will be safe there—in my memory. It is not where he belongs—he belongs in the open air, laughing and happy—he deserves much better than just my memory. But that is all I can give him now, except to fulfill the promise I made him._

I gasped as the pain ripped through my heart. I had been right; the pain was getting worse. It was worse now because of my effort to keep it hidden earlier, but I knew I would not last longer. The pain is steadily becoming worse; I can barely think of Jack without doubling over in pain.

As if in response to my suffering, another memory hits me as I walk into my apartment, the force of it sending me to my knees. It is no ordinary memory. It is the one memory that is the most precious memory of Jack that I have.

_I finish dressing, putting on my favorite gown, a simple white and lavender. A pink and white sash wraps around my waist, and a small train trails behind me as I walk. Jack comes to meet me, rubbing his hands, and he smiles._

"_You look nice," he says._

_A sudden knock on the door causes me to grab his hand, and there's a voice…_

I shut my eyes and screamed for the memory to stop, throwing myself onto my bed. I couldn't hold back the flood of tears that consumed my body. I would _not_ allow myself to think of that memory. Out of all my memories, this one caused me the most pain. It even outranked the night of Jack's death—which in truth was the same night. But it was not the same to me. My mind had separated the two with a chasm almost as deep as the Atlantic Ocean itself. The latter part of the night had been spent in fear. The first had been spent with Jack.

Quickly, before my mind tries to inflict more pain on me, I undress, taking my time to put on my nightclothes and wash my face. I run my work schedule through my head to keep anything else at bay. In truth, I have a lot to do tomorrow. Madame Belfer was coming in to have a dress fitted and sewed for her; I was done with the wedding dress, so I was moving on to the next costumer. I would have much to do, and I was thankful for the thought. With my mind preoccupied, I could delay the pain of the memories.

I looked at the bed. It was beckoning me forward; I was so tired, but I didn't want to fall asleep. What would I dream about tonight? Which memory of Jack would I see tonight, and how much pain would I have to deal with tomorrow? I didn't want pain. I wanted to be able to have one day, one day, without the reminders of the sorrow I felt over Jack's death. Just one day.

I slipped quietly and soundlessly underneath my covers. It was cold tonight, and the wind and rain pounded against the wood. Without a doubt, I knew tonight would contain one of my worst memories, but before I could dwell on it, I drifted to sleep.

_I finish dressing, putting on my favorite gown, a simple white and lavender. A pink and white sash wraps around my waist, and a small train trails behind me as I walk. Jack comes to meet me, rubbing his hands, and he smiles._

"_It's getting cold. You look nice," he says._

_A sudden knock on the door causes me to grab his hand, and a sudden voice carries through the wood. "Miss Rose?" I give a silent gasp and pull Jack to the back of my suite._

_Jack looks back. "My drawings!" he mutters, but I urge him to follow me, and he does. I know it is Lovejoy, Cal's ridiculous manservant. I know he has orders from Cal to follow me, but this is absurd!_

_Jack and I exit the room, walking down the hall. We both look back, and Lovejoy has just stepped out of the room. We both start to walk faster, but then I grab Jack's hand and we run for the elevators. I can feel the reckless smile radiating from my face. We make it to the elevators just in time, hurrying the man along. Lovejoy barely misses us, and though I see the dangerous look in his eyes, my eyes light up and I stick up my middle finger. I know it is terribly unladylike, but I don't care. Jack and I laugh as Lovejoy slides out of sight._

_Jack nearly falls out of the elevator as we get out, and I laugh, holding onto him as we run down the stairs to the E Deck. At the bottom of the steps Jack trips again, nearly disturbing a waiter and the precarious amount of pottery he held. I walk forward, barely able to stand because I am laughing so hard. I fall against a wall and Jack stands next to me. Jack and I are breathing hard, watching for Lovejoy._

"_Pretty tough for a valet, this fella! Seems more like a cop!" jack says, laughing and bracing himself against the wall._

_I can barely quell my own laughter. "I think he was."_

"_Oh, great!" Jack exclaims._

"_Go!" I yell, smiling and pushing Jack forward as we race through the halls. We come to a dead end, and I give a small cry; not one of fear, but like someone who is playing hide and seek and is just about to get caught._

"_No, over here!" Jack calls, rushing into a room and locking the door behind us. The sudden noise of the room hurts my ears, and I cover them. "What now?" I shout, barely able to hear my own voice. Jack shrugs, smiling playfully as he descends the ladder into what looks like one of _Titanic's_ boiler rooms. He jumps down, then holds his arms up for me. I fall back into his arms and he catches me. I feel as if the smile on my face cannot get any bigger._

_Jack and I look around, and it is hotter here than I have ever felt. A man turns to us, his face dirty with coal. "Hold up," he says with an accent. "What are you two doing down here? It could be dangerous." I bite my lips from the smile on my face, and I grab Jack's coat, pulling him after me as I run through the boiler room. He runs behind me, and as the men start to look at us, Jack begins to talk._

"_Don't mind us! You guys are doing a great job! Keep up the good work!" I laugh even harder, though I am still out of breath, and I keep running through the steam and fire. I can already feel the sweat beading on my face and chest, but the happiness coursing through me is something I have never felt before._

_At the end of the boiler room, Jack opens another door. He takes hold of my hand and leads me through, looking back at me. I smile and realize that we are in the depths of the ship: the cargo hold. I rub my arms at the sudden chill of the air. After the boiler room, the air in the cargo hold is almost as cold as ice. Jack sees a Renault in the middle of tons of boxes, and leads me to it. I can see his admiration as he gazes at the automobile, and I stand at the door to the back, waiting. Finally I clear my throat and he looks back at me. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he smiles and opens the door for me._

"_Thank you," I say in a fake haughty voice, taking the hand he offers me to step into the car. He climbs into the front seat as I push down the glass partition between us. When he honks the horn, the sound is loud and annoying, and I laugh at Jack's humor._

_He sticks his nose in the air. "Where to, Miss?"_

_I lean forward close to his ear, whispering. "To the stars." I can see an intrigued look pass over his face, and I wrap my arms around his, pulling him into the back seat with me. His arm automatically wraps around my shoulders, and his fun smile is suddenly gone. He is completely serious as he takes my hand, entwining his fingers with mine._

_I know my eyes give me away. "Are you nervous?" he asks, gazing down at me in one of his soft, but piercing gazes. I stare back at him, my eyes soft._

"_No," I whisper, and I take his hand, kissing his fingers. His hands were so soft, unlike most men's, even though I know Jack has worked just as hard, if not twice as hard as most men. His finger grazes my lip, and I look up at him. His face is more serious, and more passionate than I have ever seen it. But I can tell he is unsure._

"_Put your hands on me, Jack." My whisper carries to him slowly. I can see the small conflict in his eyes. He seems afraid to—almost—as if he is not sure that I am really here, that he deserves me. I take his hand, pulling it towards me, and it seems as if he can't resist any longer. His head moves towards me, his lips pressing firmly onto mine. Strangely enough, this kiss is different from the one on the bow—that one had been soft, gentle, and pure. I can feel his passion as his hands hug me closer to him, his fingers tracing along my arm, and I am lost in the beauty of our innocence._

I couldn't open my eyes. I didn't want to. Tears had sealed them shut, and yet I didn't want to break the spell. My heart ached as I remembered how happy I had been. I had had everything in the world I could have ever asked for: love. Love had been all I had needed, all I realized that I wanted, and it had been taken away from me. Everything around me—the air, the leaves, the grass, the trees, the sun—seemed lifeless and dull. It had all been vibrant when I had been with Jack. His love and ability to capture life made everything brighter. I missed him so much!

The pain I knew would come was finally here. It whipped and lashed at my heart, but the memory of the peace, of the beauty of that moment, somehow deadened the effect of the pain. I still agonized of the loss of Jack, but the pang of guilt and despair, and the realization that my dreams still were not real, wasn't as potent as it had been. I don't know what I would have done if it had been worse.

Still, I curled up on my bed, unable to face the day. Mornings were always the worst. I would have to make myself remember my promise to Jack; it was the last thing I could do for him. I couldn't let him down. But how could I help it if my body and mind didn't want to live without Jack. What if it protested the void that wounded my soul and left me crippled like this, half functional? I couldn't live like this: the inside of me dead to anything but pain and sorrow, and the outside of me, just a pale reflection of how _not_ to live. I couldn't live like this. Jack would want me whole. But he didn't understand that the only way for me to be whole is for him to be with me.

I stand from bed. I have a short time until I need to leave for work, but I can manage. I pull out an old dress, one that I bought from a poor seamstress. I placed the dress over my loose corset. I actually liked it. It was mostly a medium beige background with hazelnut and fawn colored spots all over it. A few jade green spots stuck out on the print, and I tied a white and brown apron over the front. I placed a scarf—sewn in the same fabric the dress had been—over my red hair. The curls fanned out behind the scarf, and the brown and green turned my eyes green-blue.

I glanced at the clock, and hurriedly grabbed my things. If I didn't, I would be late. I knew Cathy had said she wouldn't fire me, but it didn't give me the excuse to be late whenever I wanted. I quickly locked the door, almost running down the stairs and through the streets. Once I spotted Davenport Dresses, my pace slowed, and I walked calmly into the shop. As soon as I had entered, I froze to the spot where I stood. How had this happened? I stared into a face full of tears, and I guessed they were genuine, but I still didn't believe them.

"Rose, darling!" The voice sent shivers down my spine as I gazed at the face of my mother Ruth Dewitt Bukator.

Sorry! I know it's kind of a cliffy, but I have to write the fourth chapter! I'm surprised at how quickly this one is going. Anyway, please read and review!

Lyrics: "All I Need": Within Temptation


	4. Chapter 4: On the Other Side

4

4. On the Other Side

Jack Dawson glanced nervously at the clock beside his bed. The sun had just sunk behind the horizon, and he cast a sidelong glance at the other side of his bed. His notebook of art lay open. Spread out in front of it was five drawings, all finished today. He knew every sketch on the paper, every stroke of lead, every detail. They were all of _her._ The most stunning feature in all of the pictures was the thick tresses of hair swarming around a young and lively face. The next feature: fathomless, happy eyes. He didn't need a picture of her to remember what she looked like. Though there was no trace of color except for the graphite, Jack knew exactly what color her hair was, and what shade of electric blue her eyes were. Everything about _her_ was just as vivid to Jack as it had been when he had been with her.

So here he sat on the edge of his bed, afraid to fall asleep. It was the night that the great ocean liner _Titanic_ had sunk exactly one year ago. He, Jack, had been there when the magnificent ship had taken water and plunged to the icy depths of the Atlantic Ocean. It had been one of the most horrific experiences of his life, next to the fact that he had lost her. She had been with him until the very end. How he had gotten onto the lifeboat was still unknown to Jack, but he knew that there had been no saving _her._ By the time he had woken up, he was on the _Carpathia_, steaming for New York.

Jack's fist pounded the wooden nightstand beside his bed. Why couldn't he say her name? Why did he always feel as if he were lifeless and empty whenever he even thought about her name? He had said her name dozens of times before a year ago; why couldn't he say it now? But even through his own anger, Jack knew why he couldn't even think it. The memories of her, the way she looked in the sunlight, her beautiful hair, even the _smell_ of her, remained as sharp as they had been one year ago.

Again, Jack looked at the clock. It was eight at night. His eyes looked helplessly around him. He would need sleep for he next day. He couldn't stay up all night. His eyes drifted to his drawings, and he slowly reached over to pick one up. His finger traced the smooth lines of her face, her soft lips, her wind blown hair, her cheek. He looked into her happy eyes, wishing that she were exactly that: happy. Jack felt the tiredness beginning to take over his body, but he fought it. He did not want to fall asleep.

And suddenly, Jack had an idea. He grabbed an empty sheet of paper and his drawing pencil, a light sketch beginning to take form on the paper. As the lines became thicker and the shadows darker, Jack rubbed his eyes. He knew it was getting late, but he had to fight off sleep as long as he could. His hand free styled over the sketch, stretching the lines that would form her hair. It curled around her face in soft waves, and her eyes were down, glancing at a flower as she inhaled its smell. Her neck was long and bare and her eyelashes curled over her eyes.

Jack struggled to keep his eyes open. Sleep was threatening to bury him under in the guilt and shame. He shook his head, his fingers continually adding depth and shade to the picture. It was going to be the best he had ever done, aside from the one he had drawn of her the last night of _Titanic_. He could feel his chest swelling with pride and sorrow as the image of her face took shape on the page…

_I gaze at the sky above me, the stars glittering like a million tiny diamonds. The bench I am laying on near the stern is strangely comfortable, like so many other things aboard this ship. Even the third class rooms look like they can belong to the second class. I finger my cigarette, then inhale the smoke and breath it out, letting it blow away with the wind._

_I have always loved nature, but the wonder and beauty of the night sky took my breath away. Suddenly, I find myself comparing the sky to her, to that angel with red hair that I had seen today. I can still see her—she had just come to stand at the railing of B deck, her eyes troubled and fixed on the sea. I had stared at her, mesmerized by a few strands of shimmering red hair that had come loose from its bun. I didn't know what it was about her that made me stare, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I heard Tommy, an Irish emigrant I had just met, turn around to talk to me._

"_Ah, forget it, boyo," he had said. I didn't process what he said next; the angel had turned to look at me, then back at the sea. She had looked so lost, helpless, isolated. I had wanted to do something, but just then her eyes had found mine again. My stomach flip-flopped, yet I still couldn't look away. A man had come up beside her and grabbed her arm harshly, but she had jerked it away, giving him a look of disgust before walking towards the inside of B deck._

_Another puff of smoke escapes my lips. Tommy is right. He had to repeat what he had said earlier, but it is true. There is no way that I will ever get close to the angel I saw earlier today. But I dismiss it. Rarely does anything upset me. Suddenly, I hear heels clicking on the floor, and a sharp intake of breath, like someone has been crying. I sit up, and my heart scrunches nervously. I swallow as I see the angel running for the stern. Somehow, I realize that this is one thing that _will_ upset me._

_I walk after her, and to my astonishment, I see her hanging off the back of the stern. Her red hair is blowing back from her face as she gazes into the icy waters below us. She leans away from the rail, and I know I must act soon. I raise my hand slightly. "Don't do it," I warn, stepping a little closer._

"_Stay back!" she cries. She glances at me for a moment, then continues. "Don't come any closer."_

_I can't believe she is going to do this! A sudden jolt of pity washes over me. From the stern lights I can see tears stains covering her cheeks. What has happened to this angel? "Come on," I say, accidentally sounding a little condescending. "Just give me your hand and I'll pull you back over."_

"_No!" Her voice is insistent. "Stay where you are! I mean it. I'll let go." She turns back to the water, staring at it. I take one last drag of my cigarette as she looks back at me again, motioning that I am going to toss it over the stern's rail. I do, and she still looks at me strangely. I place my hands in my pocket and call the biggest bluff I've ever made._

"_No you won't." I raise my head slightly, trying to keep a poker face. She can't see that I truly think she just might jump after all._

_She looks at me with something like a scowl on her face. "What do you mean, no, I won't?" Her face takes on a look of disgust. "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me!"_

_I shrug, thinking fast. "Well, you would've done it already." Which is true. She turns back to the water._

"_You're distracting me! Go away."_

_I shake my head. "I can't. I'm involved now." And I mean it. I can't let her die. And though she probably does want to, I wonder about what could make a first class lady so suicidal. She most likely has everything, and I feel a small prick in my chest. That means that I have nothing to offer her. But I continue. "You let go and I'm going to have to jump in there after you," I say, shrugging out of my coat and dropping it to the anchor next to the rail. She gives a small, slightly hysterical laugh._

"_Don't be absurd. You'll be killed."_

_I start to take off my boots. "I'm a good swimmer."_

"_The fall alone will kill you," she protests._

_My resolve tightens. "It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To tell you the truth I'm a lot more concerned about that water being so cold." I raise my eyebrows, and her head inclines towards me slightly._

_She looks undecided, and I can hear the hitch in her voice. "How cold?"_

"_Freezing," I say nonchalantly, my shoulders shrugging slightly. "Maybe a couple degrees over." I take off my second boot, moving with controlled care. Though I doubt it now, she might still jump. Hoping it might help, I launch into a story. "You ever, uh… ever been to Wisconsin?"_

_She looks away, then back at me, completely confused. I inwardly sigh with relief. Maybe everything will be all right. "What?"_

"_Well, they have some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there near Chippewa Falls. I remember when I was a kid, me and my father went ice fishing out on Lake Wissota." I paused, quickly explaining. "Ice fishing is, you know, where you—"_

"_I know what ice fishing is!" she interrupts, her voice angry._

"_Sorry," I apologize. "You just look like an indoor girl. Anyway, I uh… I fell through some thin ice and I'm telling you… water that cold, like right down there, it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body." I exaggerate with my voice, hoping she is still listening to me. "You can't breathe, you can't think—at least not about anything but the pain." I suck in a breath. "Which is why I'm not looking forward to going in there after you. Like I said: I don't have a choice."_

_She simply stares at me, and I can see in her eyes that she really doesn't want to kill herself. Something terrible has happened to her, and in that moment it is all she had thought about. I look at her closely. "I guess I'm kind of hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."_

"_You're crazy," she says, but I can tell she really doesn't mean it._

_I stare at her, my gaze piercing. "That's what everybody says, but with all due respect, miss, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship here. Come on," I urge, carefully stretching my arm past hers so my hand was in front of her. "Come on, give me your hand. You don't want to do this."_

_She gasps, glancing at my hand, then I finally feel her take hold. Slowly, she turns around, facing me. I sigh in relief, smiling at her. "I'm Jack Dawson," I say, momentarily stunned at how close I am to the angel. Her cheeks are puffy from crying, and her lips are quivering, but her eyes are thankful yet wary._

"_Rose Dewitt Bukator," she mumbles, shaking my hand._

"_I'm going to have to get you to write that one down," I smile, a small laugh rumbling from my chest. Her lips part in a smile, and I feel something flutter in my stomach. "Come on," I whisper, holding onto her other arm as she leans closer to me. The smell of her hair brushes by me, and I inhale as she steps up._

_Rose suddenly screams, and I feel her slipping through my fingers as she falls to the ocean below us. Both of my hands grasp at her right arm as I grunt from the force of her weight. I brace myself against the rail, a thousand thoughts burning through my head. Her screams echo through the still night, but I hold on tight._

"_I've got you! Come on," I urge. "Come on!" I see the fear in her eyes, and yet there is trust too. I pull with all my might, but she slips again! Her screams are more insistent now, like she is yelling for help._

"_Please, help me!" she screams at me. But her flailing isn't helping me any._

"_Listen! Listen to me." My eyes are blazing. She will _not_ die. "I've got you. I won't let go. Now pull yourself up! Come on!"_

_For a split second she hesitates, then pulls herself up as I hauled her to the rail. "You can do it!" I encourage, and I know I might be bruising her skin; my grip is hard and strong, but it's a small price to pay. I grab her around her waist, grunting under the strain my back has had, and I heave her over the rail. "I've got you," I whisper in her ear. Her feet drop over the rail, throwing me off balance. She cries out as she hits the floor and I land on top of her. I stay there for a moment as her breathing slows, then lift myself up only to find three deck hands stopping near us._

_I look at him, and my face clouds with dread. I glance over at the anchor. My boots and coat lay exactly where I had left them, and I glance down at Rose. Her arms are shaking, her chest rises and falls from lack of breath, and her dress is torn a little passed her knee. I suck in a breath. I know exactly what this looks like._

_The first deck hand points his finger at me menacingly. "You stay back, and don't move an inch! Fetch the master-at-arms!" I stand to my feet, not daring to do anything else. Within minutes the master-at-arms and three well-dressed men are all around us. The most annoyed of the three paces in front of me._

"_This is completely unacceptable. What made you think you put your hands on my fiancée?" My eyes glance over him, then flicker over to Rose. She's _his_ fiancée? My heart slows. Of course there is no hope, like Tommy said. This man was apparently very rich. He grabs my shirt, shaking me. "Look at me, you filth!"_

"_Cal…" Rose tries to interrupt._

_The man named Cal pushes me back. "What do you think you were doing?"_

"_Cal, stop," Rose tries again, standing up and tugging on his arm. "It was an accident."_

_Cal's eyebrows rise; I can tell he doesn't believe it. "An accident?"_

_I look at Rose quizzically. "It was," she explains. "Stupid, really. I was leaning over and I slipped." My confusion grows as I glance from Cal to Rose. She turns her eyes to me, begging, almost pleading for me to stay silent. "I was leaning far over to see the, uh… uh… the uh… um…" her finger twirls as she no doubt tries to come up with some excuse. But why?_

"_Propellers?" Cal prompts._

"_Propellers and I slipped. And I would have gone overboard but Mr. Dawson here saved me and almost went over himself." I looked down, a mixture of confusion and wonderment on my face. Are these men really going to believe this? I look at Rose. Her face is flushed and there is uncertainty in her eyes. I smile. The story is just as preposterous to her as it is to me._

"_She wanted to see… She wanted to see the propellers." Cal is obviously upset about it, but I don't even want to imagine what will happen if he knows the truth. An older man walks towards me._

"_Like I said: women and machinery do not mix."_

_The master-at-arms turns me so I face him. "Was that the way of it?" I glance quickly at Rose, and her eyes plead for me to agree. I set my lips. How can I disagree with her?_

"_Yeah," I say. "Yeah, that was pretty much it."_

"_Well, the boy's a hero, then," the older man congratulates. "Good for you, son. Well done. So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?" he mumbles, but I don't pay attention. I look at Rose, my eyes slightly questioning, but a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. She thanks me quickly—businesslike—with her eyes as the master-at-arms releases the handcuffs from my wrists. I rub them, glad to have them back. I glance back and see Cal with his arm around Rose's shoulders, and I hear the older gentleman say something to Cal._

_Cal thinks for a moment, but I hear Rose object. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" Her voice is almost mocking. I finish putting on my jacket, and see Cal walking over to me._

"_Perhaps—" whatever he is going to say seems to wound his ego, but I listen "—you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening to regale our group with… your heroic tale." I shift my weight, already disliking this man._

"_Sure. Count me in," I say, somewhat annoyed._

_Cal flashes a fake smile. "Good. Settled then." He walks away, and I stand there, hardly able to believe that I am going to eat dinner with first classmen, and above all: Rose. I watch her walk off. She glances back at me, a strange fear entering her eyes when Cal places his hand on her shoulders. She quickly turns away from me, but nothing can darken my mood tonight. I have achieved the unachievable, and I am going to make sure that I impress Rose as much as I can._

A sudden noise startled Jack from his dream. He sat up quickly, noticing that his hand still held his lead pencil, and the drawing lay beside him on his notebook. He gazed at the face he had drawn, a heavy guilt and shame weighing down upon him. _I'm sorry,_ he thought. _I saved you that time… Rose… But not the second time. I'm sorry._ It hurt slightly that he couldn't say her name, but he knew that was something he would have to live through. He had said her name so many times in those four days; he would certainly say them now, no matter what the effect.

He sighed and picked up his pencil once more, writing something to the side of the drawing in his best handwriting possible. The words flowed over parts of her hair that were coming loose from her bun. Jack had never been one to write poems, but this one somehow just… came. There was no thought. His hand scored over the paper, writing something but having no knowledge of what it was.

Finally, Jack brought his pencil around, finishing the shading in Rose's neck, adding a tweak to her mouth to make it look like she was smiling and happy. That was how he remembered her—happy, smiling, enjoying life. He gave a dry laugh. His memories of her were almost the only time she ever smiled. He remembered when she had told him about some of the things Cal had done, or how viciously she had clung to him when she had been unhappy. After only a few minutes, though, she was herself, her _real_ self, and Jack never wanted her to be anything else.

The picture finished, Jack started to read the words. It amazed him how true they were, how much they represented exactly what he felt. He stared at the paper, captivated by the words that seemed to dig deeper within him.

_Couldn't save you from the start _

_Love you so, it hurts my soul _

_Can you forgive me for trying again? _

_Your silence makes me hold my breath _

_All the time has passed you by _

_For so long, I've tried to shield you from the world _

_You couldn't face the freedom on your own _

_Here I am _

_Left in silence _

_You gave up the fight _

_You left me behind _

_All that stands forgiven _

_You'll always be mine _

_I know deep inside _

_Watched the clouds drifting away _

_Still the sun can't warm my face _

_I know it was destined to go wrong _

_You were looking for the great escape _

_To chase your demons away_

_All that stands forgiven _

Jack nodded his head. This fit the picture perfectly. He didn't know exactly how, but he set the picture aside, placing it by his bed. No matter how much money he was offered, this drawing was one that he would never sell. Suddenly, Jack jumped off of his bed. If he didn't hurry, he would miss the appointment he had for work.

He quickly dressed, making sure he didn't wake old Mrs. Harris, an elderly woman that agreed to house Jack if he helped her around her house. It was an offer that Jack couldn't refuse, especially since he didn't have a job yet. He was hoping that today would be the day that they hired him. He quickly grabbed his sketchbook—it would be a completely pointless meeting without it.

Jack nearly flew down the street. The meeting was to take place in a park that was more than halfway across town. Jack ran down the street, pushing aside a few people as he threatened to crash into them. They looked at Jack in shock and amazement, but he didn't pay attention to them. He had an appointment to make.

The park was almost full by the time Jack arrived. His eyes roved the area quickly, and finally he spotted the person he was looking for. Jack walked over to the bench where his interviewer sat; he tried to control his heavy breathing. He had just run almost a half-mile.

The man stood and held out his hand. "Joshua Spinnet," the man introduced himself, a smile on his face. Jack could see the man was older, but wise. His top hat and clothes gave him the appearance of first class, and his beard and mustache were turning silvery gray. His white-gloved hands clasped Jack's in the handshake.

"Jack Dawson," Jack said, smiling back and firmly gripping Spinnet's hand.

"Well, Mr. Dawson, I did expect someone different, but let me take a look at those drawings." Jack handed Spinnet the portfolio as they sat back down on the bench. Ever since he had met Rose, Jack had refused to draw unclothed portraits. Most of the pictures now, though, were various images of Rose he could see; there were some of nature and some of random people; there were few that involved ships.

Spinnet continued to look at the pictures; Jack had had to start anew after the tragedy of _Titanic_. The only regret Jack had about the sinking ship was that he hadn't been able to save Rose, and that he hadn't been able to keep that first picture he had ever drawn of her. The moment was so personal to him, he didn't know how to explain it. Spinnet broke Jack out of his reverie.

"Mr. Dawson, I must ask, who is this woman? You sketch her many times."

Jack blushed, but willingly explained. "She was someone I had seen from afar, sir. On the ship _Titanic_. She went down with the wreck, sir."

"Did you know her?" Spinnet asked, his brown eyes bright and intensely curious. Jack didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to be questioned about Rose, either. Some things—especially love torn or fallen apart—should be left unsaid.

The lines of Jack's face involuntarily hardened. "No, Mr. Spinnet. I did not know the lady. She was… a higher class than I." It wasn't the best thing to say, but he knew Spinnet would most likely understand. And Spinnet did. He turned back to the drawings, pouring over them, reading every detail that had been drawn into faces or backgrounds. Jack was growing more nervous with each passing second, but Spinnet finally relieved the tension.

"Mr. Dawson, these drawings are absolutely amazing." Jack smiled, but apparently Spinnet wasn't finished. "However, Mr. Dawson, I am afraid that I cannot hire you. I myself would gladly take you to our art studio, but my three collegues that help choose artists would not allow you in. I am sorry, Mr. Dawson, truly. Your work is just what this new generation needs. I am sorry."

Jack couldn't believe his ears. He could see it in Spinnet's eyes that he was serious, and before he knew it, Jack was standing alone in the park, the sun beginning to set. How had this happened? He was so sure he would be getting this job; many people already had given him a small fortune for the portraits and landscapes that he had drawn. A real job as an artist, though, he realized was out of his grasp. He would have to be higher than third class to get the job, which Jack didn't have.

He thought for a moment. There was only one place that Jack really went to when he was depressed. Oddly enough, that place was the graveyard that was home to the hundreds of people who had perished at the hands of the mighty _Titanic_, and somehow, it was the exact thing he needed: to remember Rose and the life she had wanted to live with him. If he could remember that for a moment—just a moment—he would be happy.

Hey, readers! I know this is kind of a different thing, with Jack's point of view and everything, but I thought it'd be a cool addition. Anyway, if any of you want to know what the picture that Jack drew of Rose looks like, I have it below. I drew it myself for the story, then thought it'd be cool if I added it in there. So, here you guys go! I hope it looks like Rose at least…

Lyrics: Forgiven—Within Temptation

The drawing of Rose that Jack sketches: (scanning ruins shading, I swear!)


	5. Chapter 5: A Move to Make

All right, well sorry guys! I couldn't get the picture to work, so I'll see if I can put it as the icon to my profile. Maybe that'll work. Anyway, you know the drill!

5. A Move to Make

The sun was almost down by the time he reached the graveyard. He stopped to stare at if for a moment, as if debating whether he really should go or whether to stay away. The clouds were covering most of the sun, and suddenly, Jack set his lips. He was determined to go, no matter how painful the memories of Rose were.

He set his portfolio down at the gate; he knew no one would take it. There was already someone there, but it seemed like they were leaving. Jack caught a glimpse of black silk, and he scoffed. What was a first class woman doing down here? Most of the graves here were designated to the third class.

He didn't look up as he neared her. A patch of sunlight touched his face, but he didn't feel its warmth. He wasn't sure if he'd ever feel the warmth of it again. A part of him had been lost—it was lost forever, gone to the bottom of the ocean along with Rose. Jack had never known such defeat in life, with exception of the loss of his parents. But alongside Rose, loosing his parents seemed like a picnic. Rose had been the love of his life, the _only_ person that he had ever loved like that. He was embarrassed to think it, but she had been the first girl that he had ever kissed, or gone further with. Even in his thoughts, she still captivated him.

Why did human memories have to be so vivid—down to the last detail and emotion? It did nothing for Jack, who still struggled with the scent of anything that resembled what Rose had smelled like. Whenever a head of red hair was in front of him, he was back to the _Titanic_ one year previous, but like all the other girls, none he had seen had been Rose. How could they have been? She was dead.

He didn't pay attention to the woman as he passed her, but a sudden spark woke him from his thoughts. He kept walking, hoping he hadn't insulted the lady in any way by acting startled. But his mind was working furiously. Where had the spark come from? It was like something electric had touched his nerves, and his breathing was suddenly a bit louder and faster, and his heart was pumping erratically. He hadn't felt like this since he had been on _Titanic_. Since he had been with Rose.

Jack glanced back, but the woman was moving off slowly. Was he the only person who had felt that? He must have been. But there was something about that woman… Her hair was hidden underneath a black scarf, and she was dressed in all black. She didn't quite walk with the air of a first class nobleman, but Jack turned back around. There was nothing familiar about her at all. He had seen so many first class women here in New York that wore black, and she resembled all the other women.

Though he wasn't sure if it could be Rose's, Jack had picked out a grave he thought would have been perfect for her, one that he would have chosen himself. The grave was surrounded by yellow and blue wildflowers and an occasional daisy. The flowers lit up the stone and made it look less harsh, less dead. Jack had drawn the flowers many times, most of them surrounding Rose's face. He couldn't help but be reminded of Rose every time he saw the simple yet pretty flowers. She had looked just as beautiful.

Jack sat near the grave, picking a few wildflowers as he sat there. He gave a nervous laugh. "You know, Rose, I've never actually talked to you in this fashion." He could imagine her sitting next to him, laughing, her face radiating sunlight. But she wasn't laughing at him. She was laughing with him. "Well, Rose, I…" Jack couldn't continue. Words failed him. He looked down at the town, an image swelling in his memory. It was one that was his second favorite.

_Her beauty still stuns me, even though I have been with her for most of the night. The red silk gown she wears hugs her figure, and I force my eyes to look at her face. She looks like she is having the time of her life as she takes a swig of beer. Quickly, before she notices, I concentrate on dancing with Cora Cartmell. She is three and had quickly become attached to me. I twirl Cora around and around, and she squeals in delight. The song ends, and the whole room erupts in applause. I bend down to Cora's height, then point at Rose._

"_I'm going to dance with her now, all right?" I can see the shock on Rose's face, and her hands are frozen in mid-air._

"_Come on," I say, and I motion for her to come._

"_What?" she asks. I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her towards me._

"_Come on!"_

"_Jack! Jack, wait!" she says nervously. I can feel her hesitation as she stands in front of me. "I can't do this." I smile mischievously, and look down at her._

"_We're going to have to get a little bit closer," I smile. "Like this." I wrap my right hand around her waist and press her close to me. She blinks in surprise and lets out a small gasp. I turn to see Cora almost glaring at me. "You're still my best girl, Cora," I reassure her, and she smiles in delight. The music starts, and I start to move Rose around in a circle._

"_I don't know the steps!"_

"_Neither do I. Just go with it!" I laugh. "Don't think!" She gives a small cry of delight and closes her eyes as we swirl around the room together, my arm holding her up whenever she loses her balance. She accidentally trips over my foot, and I feel her slip._

"_Wait, Jack! Stop, Jack! Oh!" I hear the slight panic in her voice, but before she can fall I press her firmly into my shoulder, my arm supporting her before she falls. I laugh as we spin around the room. She laughs in turn, her hand on my shoulder, leaning into me as we continue to dance. I can see the true smile on her face, unlike the fake one she had plastered on at dinner. Her eyes shine with happiness, and her hair bounces with her as we move. Is it possible for me to be even more captivated than I am now?_

_The song hits a familiar note, and I turn to look around the room. To my left is a stage; I know a jig to this part._

_I pull Rose after me, and she protests, but there is no scolding in her voice. I brush my hair back as I step on stage, tapping my feet along the wood in time with the music. Rose lets out a laugh of surprise, and I see her taking off her shoes. As soon as I stop, Rose lifts her dress, then proceeds to dance the same jig. I look at her in astonishment. How does she know how to do that? She looks at me with a daring smile, and my own smile covers my face as I clap and dance another part of the jig. She lifts up her skirts still higher, dancing in a circle and tapping her feet. I hold out my arm and she takes it, and we spin in a circle. I grab her hands and she does the same, and I spin faster and faster, the room becoming a blur behind Rose's happy face._

"_Jack, no!" she laughs, and I let out a yell of happiness. She closes her eyes and lets out a louder laugh. I pull her towards me and catch her, the song ending in a final note. I hold her hand and walk her over to where Tommy sits, arm wrestling with one of the Swedes that share the cabin with Fabrizio and me. Four beers rest on the table, and I grab two of them, handing one to Rose. She takes it with a smile. I take a swig of mine, but I look at her in astonishment as she downs almost three fourths of the beer._

"_What?" she says, her smile growing larger. "You think a first class girl can't drink?"_

_I smile in reply, and she laughs with me. A drunk man bumps into me, splashing my beer all over Rose. I don't think anything of it until I hear her cry of surprise. I grab the man's shirt and shove him over, a strange wave of protectiveness coursing through me. She suddenly seems so fragile, so breakable, and I turn to her, my face concerned._

_But to my surprise, she is laughing. "Are you all right?" I ask, my face serious. She keeps laughing, but nods her head._

"_I'm fine. Really, Jack."_

_Both of us glance over at the noise that suddenly broke out in front of us. Tommy was beaten, and they were arguing, but Rose walks over. "So," she starts, grabbing the cigarette from Tommy's mouth. A look of utter astonishment and captivation is plastered on his face as he gazes at Rose. I smile in amusement. Tommy probably hasn't been so close to a beautiful first class girl in his whole life._

"_You think you're big, tough men?" Rose continues, backing away and taking a drag from the cigarette. "Let's see you do this." Rose lifts up the train of her dress, stuffing it into my arms. "Hold this for me, Jack. Hold it up." I do as she says, but I raise my eyebrows and look at Tommy. He smiles and laughs._

_I watch as Rose assumes a ballet stance, then slowly goes up to point. My mouth hangs in shock as I see the entirety of her weight balancing on the tips of her toes. The men at the table stare at her, words completely failing them._

"_Ow!" Rose cries, falling to her heels and tipping towards me. I suddenly hold my arms out as she tips towards me and grasps at my shoulders. The force of her fall moves me a few inches, but I hold her steady, almost as if we were performing a dip in the middle of a ballroom dance. The whole room breaks out into applause, and I hold Rose closer._

"_You all right?"_

"_I haven't done that in years!" she laughs, and I laugh with her. I can't help but feel stunned though as I gaze into her lively blue eyes. Something is stirring inside of me, something that I have never felt before._

_I help Rose to stand as another song starts and a line begins to form. Fabrizio and Helga, a woman he likes, were at the end of the line. Rose grabbed Fabrizio's hand and then found mine, pulling me along with her. Her face was completely happy as we danced around the room, and her musical laugh filled my ears…_

Her laugh faded into the distance, faded into the interior of his mind to be locked there forever. Jack looked down at the grass. He loved her laugh. It was the singular, most beautiful sound in the world to him. He couldn't explain it, though. It was as if she had set a trap, and had captured him, but when he had been set free, a part of him stayed with her.

Jack knew that his heart would never be his any longer. It belonged to Rose, and it would stay that way. There was no one else who could take her place. She was one of a kind, a once in a lifetime person. And he had been lucky enough to meet her. Jack shook his head. He still didn't understand. He hadn't had anything, and yet still she had wanted him, loved him.

How did he deserve such an angel?

Jack preferred not to answer the question. He hadn't done anything to deserve her. But she had been there for him to love, to cherish, to protect. And yet he hadn't protected her. He hadn't been able to save her. He knew that nothing he could have done would have saved her now, but he still wished. Still hoped.

He truly didn't deserve her. And though he knew he didn't, he also felt like he did deserve her. He had been so astounded, so shocked when she had come to him at the bow of the ship, telling him that she had changed her mind. He couldn't remember a time when he had been happier.

Jack laughed wryly. "You know, Rose, my heart almost stopped when you told me you had changed your mind." Jack looked at the grave, and everything remained silent. "But… I was never happier. I will always remember it." Jack looked at the gravestone, his heart giving an unnatural squeeze. "I love you, Rose. Always."

With nothing further to say, Jack stood from the ground. He had said enough. He could never be here for very long. It left him too long with his thoughts, and his thoughts did not bring happy memories. Sometimes they did, but it mostly the guilt and shame of not being able to save the one woman he had ever loved.

At the gate to the graveyard Jack stooped to pick up his portfolio. He glanced back, and he could see her. She was translucent, but was wearing the yellow dress she had worn to thank him for saving her. She held a small bouquet of transparent flowers, and she looked over her shoulder at Jack. She seemed to be telling him goodbye.

Jack shook his head and trudged back to his room with Mrs. Harris. She would be wanting help with dinner. As he was walking, Jack took a look into his life, where he stood. He didn't have a place of his own; he was only twenty and had no income; and if he didn't get a job soon he would be out in the streets. His clothes weren't in the best shape; there were only a few rips and tears, but most were able to be mended.

Old Mrs. Harris walked to the door when Jack arrived. "Is that you, Jack?" Her crotchety, old voice didn't carry too far, but Jack heard it.

"Yes, Mrs. Harris."

"Did you get that job, there, sonny?" she asked, mostly out of politeness, but Jack could tell she was slightly interested.

"No," he mumbled, his bad mood fully returning. Mrs. Harris turned into the living room to sit down.

"There's some cold ham on the counter. Help yourself."

Jack thanked her and grabbed a small plateful, taking it to his bedroom. The meat was tasteless, but he ate it anyway. Jack couldn't control the anger slowly seeping into his veins. Mrs. Harris hadn't meant to, but she had reminded Jack of why he hated the first class. He didn't hate the man who had viewed his work, nor did he hate Rose, but he hated every single other first class person that looked down upon the third class. They were the ones that worked hard for a living; the first class sat back and simply spent their money.

Sleep was beginning to take a hold of Jack, but once in bed, he found himself wide awake. This day had been completely uneventful, unlike the April 15 of last year. So many people had died… Jack rolled over. He couldn't think about it. Not now. The thought of Rose bobbing in the ocean, frozen and lifeless, made him shudder. It was the last thought he had, though, before he fell asleep.

_I marvel at how long we have been talking. It has been most of the morning, and still, Rose is walking next to me, listening as I tell her of how I grew up. But there is something else that she is here for. "Well, Rose," I start, not wanting to end our time together, but I know that she has something to say. "we've walked about a mile around this boat deck and chewed over how great the weather's been and how I grew up, but, I reckon that's not why you came to talk to me, is it?"_

_Rose looks at the deck, and heaves a sigh. "Mr. Dawson, I…"_

"_Jack," I correct her, and nod when she looks uncertain. "Jack…" she says slowly, uncertainly. "I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for pulling me back, but for your discretion as well."_

"_Your welcome." My honesty is present through my tone, I'm sure, because Rose seems to take confidence in it. I can see the indecision in her eyes, her hesitation as she speaks to me. A part of me suddenly wants to wipe it away, to free her from the ambivalence that seems to plague her from the inside._

"_Look," she sighs heavily, and it seems to just pour out of her. "I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?"_

"_No," I reply quickly, holding onto a rope near the rail that supports one of the smoke stacks. "No, that's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was what could've happened to this girl to make her think that she had no way out?" I gaze at her, my eyes piercing and true._

_Rose hesitates, then plunges into the story. "It was everything, really. It was my whole world and all the people in it, and the inertia of my life plunging ahead and me, powerless to stop it." She holds out her left hand, and on her ring finger is the biggest diamond I have ever seen._

"_God! Look at that thing! You would've gone straight to the bottom!" I joke, but there is no smile this time to light her face._

"_Five hundred invitations have gone out." She is breathing heavily, almost as if she is afraid. "All of Philadelphia society will be there, and all the while I feel I'm… standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up." There is a small spark of relief in her eyes._

"_Do you love him?" I have to ask the question. Not for my benefit, but for hers. I can already tell she doubts that she loves him, but _she_ just needs to know it. I know where I stand._

"_Pardon me?" she asks, and I can tell I have struck a nerve._

"_Do you love him?" I repeat._

"_You're being very rude. You shouldn't be asking me this." Though her voice is surprised, there is a light of some kind in her eyes, like one of… interest._

"_Well, it's a simple question. Do you love the guy or not?" I ask again, smiling slightly._

_She laughs slightly as the wind picks up and blows a few short tendrils of red hair in her face. But she is smiling, and her eyes are laughing. "This is not a suitable conversation."_

"_Why can't you just answer the question?" My smile is larger now; I can tell she is purposefully avoiding answering._

_She gives a nervous laugh. "This is absurd. You do not know me and I do not know you, and we are not having this conversation at all. You are rude and uncouth and presumptuous—" I raise my eyebrows at her as she continues— "and I am leaving now. Jack—Mr. Dawson," she says, starting to shake my hand, "it's been a pleasure. I sought you out to thank you and now I have thanked you…"_

"_And you've insulted me," I interrupt, my voice far from serious._

"_Well," Rose says haltingly, "you deserved it."_

"_Right," I laugh._

"_Right."_

_I fight a smile as I realize she is still shaking my hand. "I thought you were leaving."_

"_Oh, I am," she starts to walk away, but turns back to me. She looks astonished at how our conversation had gone, but there is amusement and wonder in her eyes, as if she has never talked to anyone like this before. "You are so annoying!"_

_I laugh as I see this is a slightly new concept for her._

"_Wait!" Rose walks back over to me. "I don't have to leave. This is my part of the ship. You leave."_

_I laugh harder and raise my eyebrows knowingly. "Well, well, well. Now who's being rude?"_

_She gives a small, annoyed laugh, then grabs my portfolio from my hand. "What is this stupid thing you're carrying around? So what are you, an artist or something?" she asks as she starts to flip through my sketches. She sits down on a bench, and I can see her previous attitude slip as she glances at my work. "These are very good! Jack, this is exquisite work."_

_I sit down beside her as we look through some of my old sketches. I can tell she likes them. "Well, they didn't think much of them in old Paree."_

"_Paris!" Rose looks surprised and impressed. "You do get around for a poor… Well, for a person of… limited means." She tries to cover for her mistake._

_I laugh it off. "Go on, a poor guy, you can say it." We reach a few pictures that I had drawn of women without clothes. I can tell she is trying to be mature about it as I explain a little. I am a little nervous, but she doesn't seem to mind the pictures._

"_You liked this woman," she comments. "You used her several times."_

"_Well, she had beautiful hands, you see?" I point out one of my favorite pictures that highlighted her hands._

_A small, knowing smile caresses Rose's face. "I think you must have had a love affair with her." She looks at me._

"_No, no, no," I shake my head. I never have had an affair. "Just with her hands. She was a one-legged prostitute. See?" I show her a picture, one that I wasn't too proud of myself, but we both laughed. "She had a good sense of humor, though." I pointed out quite a few other people that I had drawn, some that I had imagined. Rose was thoroughly impressed with the way I drew._

"_You have a gift, Jack. You do. You see people."_

"_I see you." I take a chance, a risk._

"_And?" she smiles coyly._

_My face is serious as I look at Rose. The words that escape my lips aren't what I think they would have been. "You wouldn't have jumped." She looks slightly confused, almost upset, but I know she would have come back. I have a strange feeling that she always comes back._

Jack woke in a sweat. His hands were shaking, but he wasn't sure why. This memory didn't have anything horrifying in it. Suddenly, he knew why he was shaking. In the dream, Rose had come back to him. She had taken to him that second day, especially after the party below deck. She had come back to him. But she wasn't here anymore.

Jack gritted his teeth and set out through the town streets to find a job. He knew that many companies were shorthanded; Jack just wasn't sure which job he would take, or more importantly, if he even wanted to work at these places. There was work in a milling factory, a coalmine whose workers were threatening to strike, ferries in the southern part of New York, and an office job. Jack knew he didn't want the office job, nor did he think he would get it. He didn't want the ferry; it would be a while before he could stand the look of the ocean again. Coalmines and factories were both bad for anyone, what with all the cotton pieces or coal dust that one inhaled.

A sudden memory flashed in Jack's mind. He was standing on A deck with Rose as they talked and gazed at the sunset. He was talking about the things he had done before he had ended up in England. For the most part he had slept outdoors, but he had traveled by tramp steamers. Jack shook his head. Ships were something that he didn't want to see for a while. But the pier in Santa Monica… He could travel back there and draw more portraits. Or he could go back to Chippewa falls to see what had happened to the town that he had left so long ago.

As quickly as he had thought of it, Jack's mind was made. He would travel back Chippewa Falls and then California and seek a life there. After all, New York held nothing for him. And though an invisible force tried to keep him here, he knew it was slowly taking a toll on him. Maybe in California he'd be able to think about Rose without the pain. The memories would be happy, sweet, and the sinking of the greatest ocean liner in the world would seem so far away.

Three hours later, Jack stood outside, waiting for Mrs. Harris to come home. He had no idea what she did during the day, but suddenly, he had to go somewhere. The prospect of leaving New York was making him strangely edgy. He wanted to leave; he wanted to get away from the memories that were so close to him. And yet, he didn't want to leave. New York seemed to hold something, something that he hadn't discovered yet. He knew that this was where Rose would have lived with him; she had said herself that she would get off the boat with him.

Was that what was trying to keep him here? The thought that he could still have a part of Rose? That somehow New York _was_ Rose? He knew that was impossible, but he had to admit that the latter was correct. Rose seemed to somehow be a part of New York, like she lived there. She would have been with him had he saved her…

A sudden voice stopped Jack in his tracks.

"Mr. Dawson! Mr. Dawson, I have been looking for you!" It was Spinnet, the man who had viewed Jack's work the previous day. Jack walked over to him. "Mr. Dawson," Spinnet continued, "I have talked to my colleagues about your work, and I have convinced them to look at it. Your boss has kindly given you the day off tomorrow so that we can take a look at your art."

Jack stood there stunned, but quickly smiled. Maybe he would get a lucky break. The feeling that had begged him to stay seemed to sigh in relief. "Thank you, Mr. Spinnet, I appreciate it."

Mr. Spinnet nodded and walked off. Suddenly, Jack's pulse jumped. To the left of Mr. Spinnet was a flash of red shining brilliantly in the sun. Jack didn't think; he couln't think. His breath was coming in fast gasps. It was her! It was Rose! He rushed towards her, moving people aside as he ran through the crowds of people.

"Rose!" Jack called, his heart soaring. He didn't even think about the possibility that he hadn't even seen if she had been on the _Carpathia_. "Rose!" he cried again, reaching her and spinning her around. But the smile faded from his face. This woman wasn't Rose. She was obviously third class, and a few of her teeth were missing. Up close her hair was thin and stringy. Jack rubbed his hands on his pants. "Sorry," he mumbled, quickly walking away.

Jack pressed the bridge of his nose. He had been so sure it was Rose. He knew it! But obviously it hadn't been Rose. Jack sighed and sauntered back to Mrs. Harris's house. He was eager to show Spinnet's colleagues how good of an artist he was. Jack glanced at the most recent picture of Rose that he had drawn. He would take that with him the next day. It was his best work.

Jack smiled wryly. Was there any hope for him? But even as Jack asked himself the question, he knew the answer. There wasn't any hope. He would never love anyone but Rose. She was the only thing that had really mattered. She was his rose that had bloomed into an exquisite flower, only to wither away after too short a time.

Rose was his only hope.

Yeah, sorry this wasn't the best of chapters. I had to work for a while on it and add a bit of fluff here and there. Anyway, I should be updating chapter 6 soon!


	6. Chapter 6: The Choice

6

6. The Choice

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I was completely at a loss for words. Ruth stood in front of me, still dressing in the same clothes that I had seen her in before. How had she managed that? And though Ruth's face was full of tears, I didn't trust her. I didn't think she really meant it. Maybe she did, somewhere deep inside, but I knew what she valued me for.

"Rose, darling!" she cried, holding out her arms to give me a hug. I backed a step, feeling the door press against my back. I saw Ruth's face loose its countenance quickly before smoothing it over. "Rose? Why don't you want to see your own mother?" Her voice sounds the same as it always has: cold yet covered in sugar.

"I stopped calling you Mother a long time ago," I whispered, but my voice was shaking. With rage or fear? I didn't know, but I saw Ruth's short intake of breath. But I didn't care. How dare she come to find me! How dare she even speak to me!

Ruth swallowed. "How could you not have told me that you were alive? I was heartbroken when I didn't see your name on the survivor's list, Rose. Cal was too. He was so sad, Rose! He told me that he wished you had been alive."

"I didn't want to tell you I was alive. I was sick of you. How could you have been worried sick about me? You and Cal were safely on the boats. But where was I? I was fighting for my life, and Jack's, no thanks to you." I was becoming angry, and it didn't help that whole of the seamstress shop was listening to our conversation. "Jack was the only thing that did keep me alive. If he hadn't been there I might be dead."

"But… you would have lived anyway. You're Rose Dewitt Buka—"

"Rose Dewitt Bukator is dead," I cut her off. "She died one year and five days ago." I could see the worry in Ruth's eyes, but I didn't pay any attention. I could feel the tears starting to come. I was so angry I was beginning to cry.

Instead, Ruth tried a different approach. "Rose, darling, look at what you're wearing! I would never have let you wear such poor things! Rose, the money's back! All of it's back! You can come home, now, and leave Mr. Dawson. I see he hasn't taken care of you as Cal would have." Ruth's voice took on a disdainful note when she said Jack's name. Her disapproval of him shone through every movement in her body.

I suddenly found that I was shaking with rage. "Jack is dead, Ruth," I spat. I was surprised that I didn't break down right then and there. The cold truth of it had always made me double over in pain. Maybe it was the fact that I was too angry to feel pain or the sorrow that Jack was gone.

I saw Ruth's face show a slight note of approval. "Well, all is well, then. Cal does not know that you are alive, and he should."

Ruth's true character was beginning to show. "Cal does not need to know, nor should he. I don't want him to know." My voice cracks as I move from the door and past Ruth to set my things down. I turn back when I notice her walking for the door. My heart leaps in fear. She can't tell Cal. She can't! "Don't you dare tell Cal," my voice shakes with the anger that is trying to cover my fear.

Ruth's face is a mask of indignation and anger. "So what if he does find out? It didn't slip through my lips." Her voice was dangerously low. He could find out at dinner."

Desperation suddenly replaces the anger. "No, Mother, please. Don't tell him."

"And why not?" Ruth spat back at me, walking closer to me, her eyes on fire. "He deserves to know! He's only your fiancée!"

Tears run down my cheeks, and I looked up at Ruth. "I am not his fiancée, Mother. Do you know what he did to me, Mother? Cal hit me, and threw a table! How do you expect me to put up with someone like that? Do want to know what happened while you were tucked safely in a lifeboat?" My voice was shaking with anger mixed with tears, but I couldn't stop. All the pain of that moment, the horror of it all, had plagued me for too long.

"After I had gotten Jack out of that room in steerage, we were running through the water. Do you know how freezing that water is, Mother? It was two degrees below freezing. Did you see the stern, Mother? Did you see it rise in the air? I was there, on that stern, looking down at that water. Do you know who was by my side?" I slowly stepped towards Ruth, staring her down as my anger shone through my tears. "Jack. Jack was the only person by my side. Where was Cal? Where were _you_?" I accused her. "I got out of there barely alive! Do you know how long I sat there on that board, waiting to be rescued? One boat came back for us, Mother. _One_. And it wasn't you're boat. Fifteen hundred people died that night! I—watched—them—die! People died because you were too stupid and concerned about your own class to even care!"

"Are you saying it's my fault?" Ruth's voice was no longer confident, but soft and mellow. The newness of my attitude was what scared her the most. She had never seen me this angry, nor this sad.

"Of course I'm not saying it's your fault!" My eyes glinted like blue steel. The anger is winning over the tears. "But you should be thanking Jack right now, even though he is not here. He saved your daughter."

"Cal can save you," Ruth whispered desperately. "Cal can give you a good life, and a good future. He loves you, Rose."

"You never loved Father. I could tell you didn't. Every morning it was the same brisk routine, the same attempt at being nice to each other. You didn't fool me, Mother. Through you and Father I saw the world as it truly was, and when I looked elsewhere, Mother, what you and Father should have had, I saw. I saw it in the third class especially. The couples actually _loved_ one another."

"Cal loves you, Rose."

"He knows nothing of love!" My eyes flashed angrily. "He never has, and he never will. And neither will you."

Ruth finally seemed to find her true voice. "How dare you talk to me like this. I am your mother! Of course I loved your father. You dare accuse me of that! You have no authority to base your accusations nor should you! I curse the day that that… that… _gutter rat_… came into your life and took over your head! If anyone knows nothing of love, it is you!"

I blinked in surprise, my anger mounting so quickly that tears suddenly cascaded down my cheeks like a waterfall. How dare she say that! I had not loved? I knew nothing of love? She didn't know how wrong she was. If she had experienced anything as near as what I had…

I could feel the anger shaking every part of my body. My voice was shaky and my throat clogged from the tears that fell from my eyes. "I do not know love?" My voice was strangely low, but it grew higher and louder as I went on. "I have loved more deeply and strongly than you ever have! I have loved, and I was loved back! Jack gave me his love, and I gave him mine! How _dare_ you call Jack that! He was one of the most decent men that I have ever known!" I wasn't blaming anyone anymore. But all my sorrow had pooled into one emotion and I couldn't stop it. "I loved him! I loved him so much, Mother! I even _dream_ about him every night, and every time I think about him… And now he's dead! He's dead!"

With a final sob I crashed through the door of the shop, racing onto the street and running. I didn't know where I was going; the tears that flooded my eyes hindered my vision, but I didn't want to stop. I had to keep running, to run away from the horrible thoughts that had gripped me in their clutches at last. I pushed people out of my way, lifting up my skirts so I could run faster. My lungs expanded and contracted as I sucked in breath after breath, and the stitch in my side was a welcome pain from the brokenness of my heart.

Time and space ceased to exist for me. It was like I was back on _Titanic_, running away from everything I didn't want to be; but here I had plenty of room to run. I could run away from everything.

I slammed into somebody, and the force of it almost made me fall. An older gentleman caught me around my shoulders, holding me up, supporting me. I didn't care that this was a stranger. My sobs racked my body as I stood there in his arms. He patted my back constantly, and yet, I didn't feel uncomfortable.

Slowly, I lifted my tear-stained face. He was older, in his mid-fifties perhaps, but his face was kind. His face was covered in a trimmed white beard, and he wore a sailor's hat. All in all, he reminded me very much of Captain Smith. But I shook the thought from my head. I knew for a fact that Captain Smith hadn't had any relatives.

"Better now?" he asked, his tone caring and warm-hearted.

I nodded slowly, and he carefully held me away from him, making sure that I was indeed as well as I thought I was.

"I'm Daniel Calvert." On closer inspection of me, he nodded his head brusquely. "Right. I can see my name won't help much. Come with me and we'll get a nice cup of tea. What's your name?" he asked as I slowly walked with him. I wasn't too sure why I was following him, but I was anyway.

"Rose Dawson," I whispered. We walked down the street together, his arm holding me up as he chatted about nothing in particular: his wife, his son, his house, his occasional travels, his favorite card game. I listened quietly, dazed and confused. I only remembered slightly what had happened with Ruth in the seamstress shop. Perhaps that was why I was dazed.

Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time, we came to a large house, almost as big as one that Cal owned in Europe. Mr. Calvert laughed at my blank expression, which he must have taken for awe. He put a hand on my back and showed me inside, calling for a maid to get us some tea. I glanced around at the furnishings of this mansion, and I cowered away from it. I felt as if I was back in a prison of rules and regulations. Mr. Calvert took my shiver as an aftershock of the tears, and hurriedly steered me into the sitting room.

After Mr. Calvert had seated me on a couch and quickly left the room, I surveyed my surroundings. The room was very large with two other couches along with the one that I was sitting on. A cherry wood table rested in between the couches, and a vanity mirror hung above a mantel that was also made of cherry. In fact, all of the wood in this room seemed to be made of cherry. There were paintings furnishing the walls, but most I did not care for. Gold trim occasionally divided the wall in two, and a poker table rested just in back of me.

I quickly averted my eyes from the things around me as Mr. Calvert and a maid walked into the room. Everything was so… proper. I felt my insides screaming for me to run again, but I stayed out of courtesy. Most of my manners still haunted me to this day. It even came through in the way I spoke.

"Here you go, Miss," said the maid kindly, and I slowly took the tea from her.

I could sense Mr. Calvert's eyes on me as I sipped the tea. The warmth spread through my body, and I could feel myself calming. The instinct and want to run from the requirements of first class were still strong, however, and it took most of my waning strength to conquer it.

"Well, Miss Dawson, I can see that you look much better." Mr. Calvert's eyes showed true concern for my welfare, but I could only look at the floor. The feeling of being trapped consumed me, overwhelmed me. "Miss Dawson," he hesitated, then quickly continued, "am I right in my assumption that you were once first class?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I turned to Mr. Calvert, fear captivating me. I didn't notice that my hands were shaking, almost spilling the tea, nor did I care. How did he know? How could he know that I had once been first class? I shook my head, trying to look convincing, but knowing I was failing.

I finally found a voice to speak, though it was barely a whisper. "No."

Mr. Calvert nodded, not pressing the matter further. I was slightly happy for it, but I feared that he might bring up the subject again. Mr. Calvert no doubt knew Cal, and that was one person that I didn't want to see ever again. I quickly took a sip of tea, staring at the floor and concentrating on the designs of a rug, but it didn't help. What if Cal did find me? What if Mother told him that I was alive? What would he do? He would hit me, I was sure of it.

A sudden sound of pounding of steps and loud voices made me jump from the couch. The teacup fell from my hand and shattered on the floor. I gave a small scream and backed towards a wall. I stood against it as two men entered the room. My breaths came in short gasps as I stared at them, and they stared at me. I was shaking all over; somehow, my mind had thought it was Cal.

Both men were just the opposite. One looked remarkably like Daniel Calvert—he had the same kind, round face, but without the beard, and looked to be only twenty. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and his eyes were light, almost hazel. The other looked just as young, but his face was slightly more pointed. His hair was very blond, but his eyes were hazel as well.

"John, Delvin, this is Miss Dawson. I think you might have almost scared her to death when you came barging in like that." Mr. Calvert laughed.

Both men took their eyes off of me and looked at the floor where the shattered teacup lay. I turned to Mr. Calvert, suddenly afraid of what he might do. I had broken what looked to be a very expensive piece of china.

"I'm sorry, sir," I whispered, stepping away from the wall and moving towards the broken pottery. "I'll clean it up, I promise." I hurriedly bent down and tried to pick up a few of the pieces without cutting my fingers. I used the moment that my face was hidden to wipe the tearstains from my cheeks. I knew my face was puffy and red, but at the moment, I didn't care.

I felt a hand touch my arm, and I recoiled from its touch. I looked up to see the man with brown hair, and a sudden memory flashed across my mind, completely out of control. I had been sitting with Cal…

_I nervously sip my tea as the servants leave us. I am alone in the room with Cal, hoping that he can't see the thoughts that keep turning to the events of last night. It had been so much fun—dancing with the people of the third class. I especially remember how close I had been to Jack. So close that I could have kissed him._

_Cal interrupts my thoughts. "I was hoping you would come to me last night."_

_I suck in a nervous breath. "I was tired."_

_His face never wavers. "Your exertions below deck were no doubt exhausting."_

_I feel a small prick of anger at his words. "I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me. How typical." I don't look at Cal's eyes. If I do…_

"_You will not behave like that again, Rose. Do you understand me?" He grits his teeth._

_My eyes rove around the table for a second, then hesitantly meet his. "I am not a foreman in one of your mills that you can command. I'm your fiancée."_

_He suddenly looses all countenance. "My fiancée. My fiancée! Yes, you are, and my wife! My wife in practice if not yet by law, so you will honor me. You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor a husband. Because I will not be made out a fool, Rose. Is this in any way unclear?"_

"_No," I barely breathe._

"_Good," he mutters, regaining his cool composure. "Excuse me."_

"Oh!" I gave a small gasp and hurriedly backed away from him, the incident with Cal still fresh in my mind. A look of confusion covered the man's face, but Mr. Calvert warned him back with a wave of his hand.

"Miss Dawson?" he asked, his voice soft. "This is John Calvert, my son," he motioned to the man with the brown hair, "and this is his good friend Delvin Masters."

I nodded quickly, silently. I glanced at the clock, suddenly realizing that I was extremely late for work. "I—I—I—I have to get to work," I stammered, brushing past the men and heading for the door with quick yet wavering steps. As I reached it, I looked back at the three men. "I'm really sorry I broke your cup, Mr. Calvert. And… thank you for the tea."

I was about to leave, but another voice stopped me. "Where do you work?" I was surprised to hear John Calvert's voice.

"At a seamstress shop," I whispered, being vague on purpose. I dipped my head and rushed out the door, running through the streets to get away from the suffocating air that had grown in the mansion. I had felt like I was trapped, with no way out; except this time, Jack wasn't here to save me.

The next morning was bright and clear, unlike my mood. I had dreamt about the sinking of _Titanic_ again, and how I had lost Jack. I almost wished he would stay out of my dreams. The nights were always restless; I hadn't had a dreamless night's sleep in more than a year.

I hurried into the seamstress shop, once again on time, but I approached Cathy. "I really am sorry about yesterday." I had apologized profusely for running out on work and having to stay at the Calvert's mansion until I told them I needed to go. Cathy had waved it aside, as she was doing now.

"I told you not to worry about it, Rose." I could tell something else was bothering Cathy, and she finally blurted it out. "Why didn't you tell us about how much misery you really are in?" Her voice was a whisper, full of concern.

"I don't want pity." I didn't know why I whispered, but my voice wouldn't reach any other pitch. "I don't want people telling me how sorry they are for me, that I lost Jack or I had to see so many people die. It brings it all to the surface again, and brings me into the light, and I don't want that. I have enough trouble as it is trying to keep myself from screaming at the nightmares. I just want to be left alone."

Cathy nodded, understanding. "Anytime you need anything, Rose, you can come and talk to me."

I looked at her, my eyes thanking her. "I wouldn't go to anyone else." I quickly ducked away as the rest of the shift came in, ready to start their work. I hurriedly start to work on the dress I had measured and cut the other day, hoping that Susan and Melanie wouldn't press the matter of _Titanic_. And to my surprise, they didn't. They only met my eyes for a moment, then started to work on their own assignments.

Jack hardly entered my thoughts; a welcome relief from the many slow work days when he _had_ plagued my mind. All in all, the day was uneventful, until the last half hour of my shift. The small bell rang at the door, and I was bid to go and help the customer that had just entered. As I passed the doorframe that led into the work room, I stopped in utter astonishment and slightly fear.

John Calvert stood in the doorway, dressed in his best, no doubt. I raised my chin and set my jaw, determined to act differently than I had the other day. "Excuse me, sir. How may I help you?"

He took me in for a moment, then smiled, revealing a mouth full of even white teeth. "Well, if you are Miss Dawson… and I assume you are… then you can help me."

I nodded brusquely. Did he have to address me so informally? I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be third class. "What would you like, Mr. Calvert?"

"John," he corrected. My heart practically leapt to my throat, as did my hand. That was exactly what Jack had said when I had gone to thank him… I shook my head, only to realize that John Calvert was much closer than he had been before. I backed away a step, afraid of the closeness of our proximity. "Are you all right, Miss Dawson?" he asked.

I quickly nodded, then asked him the question again. He laughed and stared pointedly at me through twinkling hazel eyes. "I would like you to come to dinner with me tonight. It's only a small party at my father's house. It's to honor the fact that I might be inheriting it soon. Granted, I don't want my father to go, but he isn't as capable of taking care of such a large house as he used to be."

My mind couldn't wrap itself around what he had just said. I didn't really want to eat dinner with him; just the thought of rules and regulations sent a chill down my spine. I didn't know what to think. It was so sudden of him to have asked me to dinner so soon, especially since the dinner was tonight.

John Calvert put his hand on my shoulder, and I moved away from it an inch. He didn't look offended, just like he had been put into place. "Will you come?"

I could feel the blank stare that covered my face, and I didn't even realize I nodded to him. But he smiled and said he would meet me here in an hour to pick me up in one of his father's cars. There was no emotion left in me to feel what I should be feeling. All I could think about was Jack.

I was afraid of the thought of going with John Calvert. Jack would be so angry, so jealous. But… he wasn't here. I forced myself to hold together, but a stranger thought distracted me. Would Jack want me happy, knowing that I was miserable? Would he really want me to go with this man… this stranger… to a first class party that I was already dreading? Would he?

And strangely enough, my heart said yes. Jack would want me to be happy. That had been all he'd cared about on _Titanic_, whether or not I was all right. He had seen to that, and he had saved me there. Would he mind if I spent one night in the company of a gentleman that I didn't know? Not that I liked John Calvert. It was only out of politeness that I wasn't canceling on him. I still had a few nice dresses that I could put on, but I would choose from whatever I had. But… Jack.

I wished I could ask him, but instead, I walked to Cathy, asking her if I could leave slightly early to prepare for a party.

Well, i sure hope you guys are enjoying it so far! I'm actually writing this pretty quickly, so you should get the update to chapter seven soon! Please read and review! I love reviews! And constructive criticism is always welcome!! (((IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE DRAWING THAT JACK SUPPOSEDLY DREW OF ROSE HOLDING THE FLOWER, CHECK OUT MY PROFILE FOR A SMALL IMAGE, OR E-MAIL ME TO GET THE LARGER IMAGE. IT'S SOMETHING I DREW MYSELF SO IT'S NOT THAT GOOD, BUT IF YOU'D LIKE TO SEE IT, CHECK OUT MY PROFILE!!)))


	7. Chapter 7: The Party

7

7. The Party

I moved in a daze as I dressed for the party. I didn't know what had possessed me to say yes to John Calvert, but I had. I stood in front of my closet, trying to pick a dress to wear. I didn't want it to be fancy; after all, I was supposed to be third class. My eyes wavered over to a large overcoat that hung on one of my chairs. Though it was hidden, I could see the money that was stashed in there, courtesy of Cal. He didn't know I had it, though.

I finally decided on a peach dress that I had seldom worn. Ruth thought I looked too lowly in the dress, but it had been one of my favorites. The neckline wasn't too low, and dress hugged my waist, only to create an A line away from my hips. It was made of peach lace with a rippling white sash that tied around my waist. It would be perfect for John Calvert's party.

I let my hair drape over my pale shoulders. I rarely put it up; Jack had liked it down. My hands slowly sifted through my curls. Jack had always touched my hair whenever he was able. He had told me that was what first got his attention.

My hand fell from my hair as if it had been burned. I would not feel Jack's touch again. Why did I keep denying the fact that he was dead? I had seen him, lifeless and cold, floating in the ocean. He hadn't moved either once we had gotten on the lifeboat, but on the _Carpathia_ even! The nurses assumed that he was dead.

I quickly lifted my long skirts and hurried out the door. At this point in time, anything that would keep my mind off of Jack was a welcome relief.

I walked slowly to the front of the seamstress shop. A sudden wave of doubt and uncertainty was coursing through my veins. Should I really be going to this party? I wrung my hands together. I could suddenly hear Jack's voice as if it were right next to me.

"_Is this part of your promise?"_

I stifled a gasp. It wasn't harshly said; as a matter of fact, it was almost as if he had whispered it. I looked around me, trying to find him, but there was no one. I bit my lip. Was I really doing this as part of my promise to Jack? With a strange look in my eyes, I realized I was. Jack had wanted me to live, to get married, to… love. I shook my head forcefully. I would never love again, not nearly as I had loved Jack, but maybe… just maybe, I could like someone enough to fulfill my promise to Jack.

I waited in front of the seamstress shop where I worked. I was getting increasingly nervous being here alone. Quickly, I consulted a small mirror in my purse. I gasped at the reflection. My skin was pale, almost sallow looking, and my hair lacked the brightness it had once had. My blue eyes were bloodshot and misty, but the feature that startled me the most was the dark circles under my eyes. I hadn't seen them grow steadily worse. Ever since the event during the previous year, I hadn't slept much; and when I did, it was a restless sleep. Sleep had evaded me for more a year now, but I could guess why dark circles under my eyes were worse. I was getting even less sleep now due to the fact that it was _Titanic_'s anniversary. Not to mention the constant nightmares that plagued my sleep, reminding me over and over that Jack was dead…

The honking of a horn caused me to jump, and I quickly plunged the mirror back into my purse. I glanced nervously around me, touching a part of my hair that was pinned back with a clip. An automobile—one of the latest models and obviously very expensive—drove up to where I stood. One of the chauffeurs climbed out of the driver's seat and opened the passenger door. I unconsciously took a step back, fear gripping me. I didn't know this man, this John Calvert. Why, oh, why had I agreed to go?

John Calvert had a smile on his face as he stepped out of the car. He smiled at me, appraised my looks, then took one of my hands and kissed it. I wasn't wearing gloves, and the kiss sent a strange sensation through my hands. It was almost revolting, but it quickly changed, and suddenly, John Calvert wasn't standing in front of me; Jack was. I was standing on a step, the whole of the grand staircase suddenly surrounding me. A band played soft music, and the tingling of Jack's lips on my hand…

"Miss Dawson?" John Calvert asked, breaking me from my reverie. I swallowed nervously and nodded to him. He smiled back, then preceded to help me into the back of the car. I glanced at the step and up into the seat, and I froze. I felt my chest rise and fall; I shook my head against the memory, pressing my hands to the sides of my head, but it didn't help. Tears poured down my cheeks as I tried to drown it out, but it wouldn't stop.

Jack helped me into the back of the Renault… He made me laugh… I pulled him into the back seat, kissing his fingers… He wrapped his arms around me, his mouth on mine… His kiss was sweet and passionate… I leaned into his kiss, slid under his weight… His hands caressed my face, stroked through my hair… His hands trailed down my arms, leaving a trail of fire in their wake…

"Miss Dawson! Miss Dawson!" The cries were like a dream, like I was stuck in this nightmare of a memory, the emotions rushing back, my skin crawling with his touch. The memory was real… too real… I couldn't stand it. I could hear someone screaming. I could feel my hands pounding my head…

"Miss Dawson! Please, Miss Dawson!" Suddenly, the screaming was louder, closer to me than I had thought, until I realized that I was screaming.

I was… sobbing. "No, no, no, no! Jack! Jack! Please no!" I mumbled through the falling tears. My hands clutched my stomach, then bashed at my head. Slowly, I opened my eyes. I was somehow on the ground, and the pain that wracked my body was like nothing I had ever felt before. I clutched myself on the ground, trying to drown out the pain, the overwhelming pain. I felt strong hands lift me from the ground. I grabbed onto the clothes in front of me, then suddenly tried to push him away. What was wrong with me? Was I going insane?

"Miss Dawson!" The voice never ceased to sound kind, but hands were shaking my shoulders. The pain stabbed at my body, everywhere that Jack had touched, but my eyes slowly became focused. John Calvert stood in front of me, his hazel eyes concerned. I collapsed into his arms, shaking.

My voice didn't sound much different. "I-I-I'm s-s-orry." It was all I could manage to say. Nothing else would come out; the pain was too excruciating.

"Are you afraid of cars, Miss Dawson?" John Calvert asked, and though my vision was foggy, my mind suddenly wasn't.

I nodded, latching onto the excuse. He didn't need to know about Jack. "Deathly afraid of cars, sir," I whispered. He nodded, saying something to his chauffeur, and holding me up as we walked. By the time we had reached the road that led to John Calvert's mansion, I had calmed down considerably. My body was still wracked with pain, the remnants of Jack's touch still setting my skin on fire.

"Miss Dawson," John Calvert said slowly, "are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered. And I truly was. No one was supposed to see me like that. I had been like that once before, but other moments had never been so racked with pain.

Thankfully, John Calvert didn't need an explanation. "I'm sorry you're afraid of cars. I'll have to rid you of that phobia." He smiled, expecting me to reciprocate, but I didn't. I couldn't even look him in the eye. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed John Calvert's smile fade. I felt slightly guilty for causing it, but it quickly crumbled. "I don't mind walking. Honestly."

I looked at him gratefully. It was the closest thing to a smile that I could muster. It didn't take too long for us to walk the rest of the way to the mansion, but I was still shaking. I glanced up at John Calvert before we entered the grounds. "Thank you, Mr. Calvert, for understanding."

"Really," he said, a slight laugh in his voice. "You can call me John."

I didn't want to be rude, but the quick memory grated on my nerves. "I'm sorry, sir," I said hesitantly, "but I am afraid I cannot be so informal." I didn't want to call him by his first name. I didn't even want to think the first name without the last.

He laughed. I looked at him with surprise, but his face was smiling. "You _cannot_ be third class! I can tell by the way you speak, even walk."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I prefer—" I started, but he interrupted me.

"I don't need explanations. I trust that you either don't want to talk about or you ran away from it. Either way, I don't care. Like I said, I don't need explanations."

I stared at the floor as he brought me through the front door. I felt a gasp escape my throat. There were so many people, so many first-classmen, and I was extremely underdressed. I turned away, but John Calvert caught my arm firmly and pushed me into the crowd, whispering something in my ear. I glanced nervously around the room, shaking slightly. A few people tried to speak to me, but I knew that only mumbled, half-put-together sentences escaped my lips. They seemed only slightly concerned for my welfare as they looked at my clothes that were obviously not as expensive as theirs.

I stood against the wall, surrounded by so many people. Never had I felt so out of place, so _scared_, around a crowd that I had grown up with. Part of me wanted to run, to hide. What if Cal were here? What would he do if he saw me? Would he hit me, just like he had before when the _Titanic_ had been sinking? I shuddered. I didn't doubt that he would. Cal was merciless when it came to disobeying his "orders".

"Excuse me, miss," a small voice said. I glanced down nervously to see a girl no older than eight staring up at me. She had curly brown hair, and her face was shining with excitement at meeting me. "What's your name? Mine's Victoria."

I managed a painful smile. She reminded me so much of Cora. "Hello, Victoria," I said, bending down to her height. Her brown eyes were so happy and excited to see that I was talking to her. "My name is Rose."

Victoria smiled so wide I could see all over teeth, even the ones that were missing. She grasped my hand and played with my fingers. "My mommy says that I shouldn't talk to people unless I'm in-tro-duced." She pronounced the last word with difficulty. I smiled at her attempt. Somehow, I felt safe with this girl. Like I was in a protective bubble.

"Victoria!" a strict voice called to us. Victoria turned around and her voice held sadness. "My mum." I nodded as the woman claimed Victoria's hand then pulled the girl away from me. I couldn't understand why she hadn't introduced herself. It was the rules of the first class. I suddenly remembered that I was third class.

I felt my old fears returning. People thought so little of me. What would they do? As if in answer, a hand fell on my shoulder. I gasped and jumped, relaxing slightly when I saw that it was John Calvert. He bent to whisper in my ear the names of most of the guests around the room. I tried committing them to memory.

I made myself join dinner, but I ate little. Talk was circulating around the room; none of it involved me, but I still kept my eyes on my plate as the conversation passed from one person to the other. I tried to keep my unease down. Every time a voice spoke, my thoughts jumped back to the dinner Jack had eaten with me and the other first class members. I tried to pay attention to the conversation, but only one part of it interested me.

"Well, well, Joshua, I hear that the art department has a new artist." It was a larger gentleman that John Calvert had pointed out to me as being named Sir Jakob.

The man named Joshua laughed. I couldn't remember his last name. "Indeed, I do, Jakob. The rest of the committee tried to disagree with me, but they simply loved his art! I must say, I think he will turn art around."

There were a few murmurs, and another man spoke up. "Yes, and I would have continued to disagree if the young man hadn't been so good. Joshua has a tendency to be too lenient on art, but I was thoroughly impressed by the man's work."

Joshua smiled. "Careful, Harlan. Mrs. Spinnet might get ideas and run off with this "fine artist" you so approve of." Spinnet! Of course, his last name had been Spinnet. Though I had never met him, I knew that he was one of the men that taught at a very fine art institute.

Laughter rang throughout the table, and the lady by Joshua Spinnet's side blushed. She mentioned something, but I wasn't listening anymore. The subject of art had passed, and there was nothing else to interest me. Once dinner was finished, I excused myself to look outside. I needed to be alone with my thoughts. All this snobbish air was suffocating me.

I made my way to a balcony that overlooked the gardens in back of the house. It was very much like Cal's old house in England, but this house was much less cold, even though I was already miserable. Something about Calvert, too, reminded me of Jack, but his position in first class made me doubt him, want to get away from him.

A hand lighted on my back, and I jumped away from it, a small cry escaping my lips. I turned to see John Calvert standing behind me. I put my hands on my chest to calm the shortness of breath.

John Calvert looked slightly hurt. "I'm sorry I disturbed you. I should take you home. I think this party has worn enough on you."

I didn't have much choice but to follow him out, and once we were around the corner on the main road, I felt myself relax. I breathed easier, I felt calmer, and I felt closer to Jack somehow. Maybe it was because I was going back home to where I always dreamt of Jack, and though most memories brought pain, the emotions that I had felt never ceased to fill me once again, and it was like I was back on the _Titanic_ with Jack, like we were reliving the life that was meant for us. But sooner or later, my dreams would revert to the horror that I tried to bury: the horror and finality of Jack's death.

"Miss Dawson, we're at the seamstress shop."

"Oh!" I gasped. I hadn't even realized how far we had gotten as I was thinking. I turned to thank John Calvert, but his expression was strange in the moonlight. He was looking at me as though I were slightly crazy, and the thought made the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I was not crazy. I was, however, unable to cope with the pain of losing the only person I've loved.

"Miss Dawson, I don't know your first name." His voice sounded hurt, but I didn't want to give him my first name. I wanted to remain anonymous. I was sure he would forget me before the week's end.

"Thank you for the party tonight, sir, but I am afraid I'll have to decline other party offers like it." I purposefully avoided his statement before. Only one person really needed to know my name, and he was dead.

"Miss Dawson," John Calvert hesitated, unsure if he should continue. He finally decided for it, apparently, because his words came out in a rush. "Miss Dawson, I know something is the matter, and it is nothing simple like a fear of cars. I saw you tonight, Miss Dawson, and you were terrified sitting at that table with the other people. When sitting alone I could see yourself clutching your stomach, especially as we had begun to dance. Don't play with me, Miss. I know something's wrong."

I decided to risk some of the pain, to share some of it. But no one would know of Jack. Not if I could help it. I dipped my head, preparing my answer to John Calvert's statement. "I'm sorry, sir. I was aboard the _RMS Titanic_ when it sunk. I was among the mere seven hundred that survived." Somehow, though, my voice was remarkably strong, yet emotionless.

"Miss Dawson, I'm so sorry." His voice held genuine concern, and the emotion that had been lacking in my voice swelled inside of me. I hastily said good night to Mr. Calvert, assuring him that I could make it to my house without his assistance. I hurried to prepare for bed, then flopped down on the mattress, letting the misery have me. I was so tired of fighting it. I was simply just too tired. All the emotion of today, the party, everything, poured itself out through my tears. I cried for Jack again and again, wishing that he hadn't left me. It wasn't until much later that I fell into a restless and fitful slumber.

_I carefully step down the ridges in the Grand Staircase. I wonder if Jack is already there; I know Mother and Cal have already left. I feel a strange excitement as I glance quickly at my dress. It is made mostly of red silk, with gold embroidery decorating the bodice and various parts of the skirt. The silk stops a few inches below my knee, slanting down in an angle towards my right ankle. The fabric underneath is a deep peach, and I am careful to make sure that I don't step on my train. I twist my fingers nervously in my white gloves, and my eyes finally find Jack._

_I can't look away from him. He is not in his regular clothes, as I thought he would be, but he is wearing everything that a first-class gentleman is entitled to wear. His dirty blond hair is slicked back, and suddenly, he turns to look at me. He is about to turn away, but his eyes hold mine as he steps over to the stairs._

_Never has Jack looked so handsome. And yet, though I have no doubt he can play the part well, Jack does not look right. He looks better with his hair undone, the long pieces of his hair falling over his face and giving him a younger look than that of a nineteen-year-old._

_He picks up my gloved hand and kisses it, and it sends a shock of electricity racing along my nerves. I blink; the sensation is making my heart flutter and my pulse race. Does he know what he is doing to me?_

_He smiles. "I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I always wanted to do it." His voice rumbled with silent laughter, and I laugh with him. He holds out his arm, purposefully acting like a snobby first classman. I take his arm with a slightly coy smile, and he sticks his chin in the air. I can't help but laugh. Jack always makes me laugh._

_We make our way over to Mother and Cal, who are greeting the countess. I tap Cal's arm to get his attention. "Darling?" I say in my most innocent tone. "Surely you remember Mr. Dawson?"_

_I don't miss the look of utter astonishment that passes over Cal's face, nor the look of pure disdain and dislike on Mother's face._

"_Dawson?" Cal asks incredulously. "Well, it's amazing. You could almost pass for a gentleman." I watch Jack's reaction. I know it made me slightly angry. Jack is everything that a gentleman should be. In my eyes at least._

"_Almost," Jack says, a slight note of disappointment in his tone. But I can somehow tell that he doesn't mean it. We start to walk to dinner, and I can't help but stare at Jack. He looks so wonderful…_

I awakened in misery. I wasn't sure why. This dream shouldn't have evoked such pain, but I could feel it. I could feel the stinging agony of it all, and I curled up on my bed, not wishing to see the clock, but looking at it anyway. It was only four in the morning. I had a habit of doing that. Nothing I did could keep me from waking so early.

I hurriedly dressed for work, not at all paying attention to what I was doing. If only Jack were here. If only…

A month passed. Nothing changed, save for a slight addition to my schedule. I grew tired of it, but he persisted. Almost every day after work John Calvert would come to see me, to talk to me. Only out of politeness did I walk with him, but he made everything else in my schedule later than normal. I was late in visiting the graveyard to put flowers near the tree, causing me to get less sleep. My dreams were confusing me, but I still woke at untimely hours in the morning. But I was at least thankful that I never really had to talk to John Calvert. He did most of the talking.

I learned a lot about John Calvert as we took short walks after I was finished with work. He had grown up in New York until he was ten, then sailed to England. From there he had visited France for a year, only to return to England. He returned to America when he was eighteen to help his father with the family business. He was still in the process of learning the tricks of the trade.

I couldn't understand why I listened to his life story. It really wasn't very interesting, not like Jack's at least. It was mostly manners that prohibited me from speaking against the idea of walking with him, but some other part of me—a very small part that was cold and dead—had flickered. I first noticed it at the end of the passing month, before I departed to pick flowers for Jack's grave.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Calvert, but I really must be going." I turned to look at John Calvert. He had been very persistent in his attempts to see me, and eventually I had given up. It wasn't worth the effort. I was barely making it as it was.

John Calvert smiled. "Until tomorrow, Miss Dawson." I was about to turn away when I felt his fingers on my hand. His lips brushed against my fingers, and I felt a strange feeling creep to my cheeks. I was… blushing. Color hadn't been on my cheeks since a very long time ago. John Calvert turned away, and I rushed back to my room to be alone with my thoughts.

Jack.

I didn't so much as flinch. I was suddenly frantic. Where was the pain—even though it was usually slight—that wrenched my heart when I thought his name? Where were the memories of him? They had…

I could suddenly remember my dreams. I knew mostly of what I had dreamt of, but they had gotten less potent, less strong. I couldn't remember feeling any emotion when I woke up, just a numb sense that I had lost something. I moved around my room, frantic. Where was the pain? I didn't like the pain, but I needed it to know that I was alive, that I still could feel. But there wasn't anymore. Where had it gone? I needed it; I couldn't feel it!

I rushed to the mirror. I gasped in horror at the face that stared back at me. My cheeks held a little bit of color; they weren't their normal pale and sallow tint. The dark rings around my eyes had lessened considerably; I could hardly see that they were there. I was… healing.

Suddenly, I raced out of my room towards the graveyard. I couldn't be healing. It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't. For longer than a year already I had carried the weight of my broken soul, but now, the pain was fading. I felt nothing. I wasn't sad anymore; I was closer to being happy. I pushed myself faster towards the graveyard. I didn't want to be happy anymore. I didn't care if the pain killed me.

I collapsed in front of the grave next to the blooming dogwood tree. The darkness hid almost everything from view, but I was getting used to seeing in the dark. I felt tears streaking down my cheeks. I was mad at myself for doing this, for forgetting Jack. He had done so much for me, and now I was letting him go?

My tears ceased as I sat up, a thought taking hold of me. Forget Jack? In truth, I had never forgotten him. I had compared everything in John Calvert's life to something from Jack's life. I remembered doing it. Dread suddenly coursed through my veins. I had compared John Calvert's life to Jack's… I had been talking to John Calvert… And I had found…

Was he the reason for my lack of pain? I thought of John Calvert, all he had said and hadn't, and everything that I had compared. It was for a fleeting moment, but a strange thought had echoed in my mind before I had fallen asleep last night. _John Calvert… he surprises me… I can never know what he will say next… Much like Jack… Yes… John Calvert is a lot like Jack…_

I gasped as the thought entered my mind. He was. John Calvert was strangely like Jack. He wasn't as interesting as Jack by any means, and I didn't love him, not like I had loved Jack, but I realized John Calvert didn't bother me nearly as much as he had before. It was a new concept for me. How could he not bother me? I had shown interest in his words out of cordiality, but I suddenly realized that I had begun to actually listen to his words. They were no longer simply sentences. I paid attention, though slight at first. I looked down at the grave I had dubbed as Jack's.

I would never forget Jack, never. But could I be happy with someone else? Could I find it in myself to try to love another person? They would never get all of me; Jack had taken me with him when he died, but they could get a small part of me. Could I forfeit my memories, my emotions, and let them retreat into the back of my mind to be just what they were: memories? Would I be able to live with Jack's face in the back of my mind? I almost heaved. I wouldn't be able to remember Jack as well that way! He would disappear from me forever!

But a more sensible thought shook the latter from my mind. Something had happened to me, something so untouchable and magical that would never be able to forget. I would never forget the emotions, the expressions, my thoughts, Jack's touch, for as long as I lived. He would always be with me.

A more pressing question clouded my mind. John Calvert obviously liked me, I was positive of that. He might even love me. But what about me? Could I like John Calvert in return? I scratched that question. I already did like him. I gasped as the immediate question leapt into my brain.

_Even if it wouldn't be much, could I love him?_

I glanced down at Jack's grave, my unspoken love for him threatening to burst out of my chest. Tears filled my eyes and fell to the grass one by one. Strangely enough, I had an answer to that question.

I'm sorry! I know it's a cliffy, but I just thought every story needs one every now and then! Updates shouldn't take to long! Thanks for reading up to this point, and I hope you keep reading!


	8. Chapter 8: The Ferry

8

Sorry this chapter took me so long to write! I have to be quite honest with you: my mind hasn't been completely focused on this story at all. I still hope the chapter's good though, and I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can!

8. The Ferry

I didn't sleep that night. My thoughts were in constant turmoil, tossing the ideas back and forth in my head. I thought I might know an answer, but I was beginning to doubt it. I sat, knowing sleep would evade me the rest of the night. It was almost time to get ready for work anyway. Finally, my mind would be free from the nagging of my conscience. I didn't want to think about it anymore than was necessary.

I hurried to work. After the night of the fifteenth, I hadn't ever overslept. Usually I did, especially when the dreams were so bad. Recently, the dreams had woken me up early, but this past month had been different. I had begun to sleep well. The emotions that swept through me during my dreams were only a reminder now of my love for Jack. Nothing would ever make me forget him, nor how I felt about him, but he would want me to be happy. Right?

Scolding myself, I banished the thought from my mind as I entered the seamstress shop. Quickly setting my things down and getting to work, I soon heard the familiar ring of a bell to let us know when costumers were here. I almost wondered if it was John Calvert, but a high feminine voice told me it was the appointment I had for today. I quickly hurried into the room as the lady picked out the material she would use.

I was stunned. I suddenly recognized the lady. It was Mrs. Spinnet, a lady that I had not met but remembered from John Calvert's party a month ago. She eyed me carefully, then recognition dawned on her face.

"You were the girl that John brought to his party, are you not?" Her face didn't look judgmental; on the contrary, she looked genuinely interested.

So I answered. "Yes. I was."

Mrs. Spinnet smiled. "Well, I'm Lauren Spinnet. My husband is Joshua Spinnet. He works at the art museum." She added the last sentence when I looked slightly confused.

"I-I'm Miss Dawson. Uh, Rose Dawson." She held out her hand, and I shook it. I felt stupid for stammering in front of her, but Lauren Spinnet didn't seem to mind. She smiled, then an interesting light came into her eyes.

"Rose. I've always wanted to name my daughter that. But, I have no daughters unfortunately. Just sons." Suddenly, she seemed to think of something. "You know, John mentioned to me the other day that he doesn't even know your first name."

My voice stammered, but nothing coherent came out of my mouth. Finally I was able to make at least some sense. "No, please wait… He can't… I don't want him to… Please don't tell him… I just—I can't…"

Lauren touched my shoulders and I looked into her eyes. They were a startling shade of blue, almost like Jack's. "It's all right, Rose. I know not to meddle in things that aren't my affairs. I won't say a word."

"Thank you," I breathed. It really was all I could say.

Lauren nodded, then a smile lit her face. "Well, let's get my new dress measured, shall we?"

I smiled and brought out a tape measure, fitting the material to pattern that she wanted. I had been quite surprised to find out that I seemed to have a knack sewing, and I didn't see what Mother was so afraid of. It was quite fun, once I had gotten the hang of the stitches and thread.

Measuring the dress and fitting it to the pattern took most of the day. Lauren and I chatted about nothing in particular, but I found that she wasn't like most first class women. She didn't talk about mindless things; she talked about things that really mattered, or at least mattered to me. But towards the end of the fitting, Lauren asked a question that I had never expected, and it took me a while to find an answer.

"Rose, were you originally in the first class?"

"Yes," I barely whispered after a long pause.

Lauren nodded. "Quite interesting. And yet you are the most interesting woman that I have met so far. No such mindless chatter. I have dearly missed that. That is the only problem: there is little entertainment, despite the riches of first class." Lauren paused, then continued. "I was third class, you know. Brought up right here in New York. I've never left the place, but it was dear Mr. Spinnet who took a liking to me, and I to him. Of course, he did have money, but that didn't matter." I could feel her eyes on my shoulders and she directed her next question to me. "Why are you pretending to be third class, if you were first?"

I hesitated, then spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stand the shallowness, the coldness, the callousness that came with first class. I didn't like it; I'd purposefully do things to be unladylike. Then, I met someone from the third class," I had almost said his name, but for some reason, speaking about Jack and my experiences like this, it brought a hollowness to my chest accompanied by a pang of loneliness. I tried to rid myself of it. The loneliness eventually vanished as Lauren and I talked, but the hollow feeling remained.

By the time my shift ended, my eyes were tired from concentrating so hard. I was too tired to even bother cleaning up before I went to bed. With an exhausted sigh, I flopped onto the bed, my eyes closing the minute they hit the pillow.

I was stiff when I woke. I craned my neck from side to side. It cracked a few times, but my arms and back were stiff as well. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. I looked at the clock suddenly burst into a frenzy. If I didn't hurry, I would be late. As I pinned up my hair, my hand stopped. I never woke up later than four. Never. Not in a year at least. I tried to think back to what I had dreamed. Had it been good? A strangled gasp came out of my throat. _I hadn't dreamed at all_. I had had the first dreamless night's sleep in two years.

Where was Jack? Where was he? I searched my memory. Was he still there? Could I find him? I ciphered through my memories, and finally found his face. All the expressions it had held, all the words that had escaped from his lips. I still remembered. I almost fell from relief. I hadn't lost him. He was still here.

As I hurried to the shop, I reflected on my appearance. It had been different this morning. I had looked… rested. My eyes weren't bloodshot; they were a clear blue, and the whites of eyes had never looked whiter. I had put on a little bit of weight; I had lost quite a bit over this past year. Though I had thought it impossible, I was healing. In a way I didn't want to; I never wanted to forget about Jack, but I also wanted to think of Jack without pain, to remember how happy we had been.

I gasped in surprise as I ran into somebody. Strong hands grasped my shoulders firmly, and I looked up. John Calvert stood in front of me; somehow, without seeing, I had already reached the seamstress shop.

John Calvert smiled. "I've a proposition for you. What's say I take you on the ride of your life tomorrow? I promise you'll have fun."

I hesitated. I had wanted to say yes so suddenly, so quickly. I had never done that before, only with Jack. I composed myself quickly, then replied. "I guess it'll be all right." John Calvert smiled larger than I thought possible.

"Good. It's settled then. I made sure that you got tomorrow off, so don't worry about coming to work. May I…" his smile wavered for a moment as he thought of what he was about to say. "May I meet you at your house?"

I didn't know what to say. My first instinct was to say no, that it was my private place. It was also the place that Jack surfaced in my memories, and I almost felt as if John Calvert would be intruding. "Um, no thank you, sir. Can we meet here?"

"Yes," he said quickly, a little too quickly for my taste. "I'll meet you here then at eleven tomorrow."

I nodded as he left, slightly excited about the thought of going somewhere with John Calvert tomorrow. We had only walked most of the time; he had never taken me anywhere. Dread filled my heart. Did he see that I was getting better in his company? _Was_ I getting better in John Calvert's company? I would have to admit that I was. How else could I explain what was happening to me?

I pushed the thoughts aside to prepare for another day of work, yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't suppress the foreign excitement that I felt.

I hurried to meet John Calvert. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted to see him. It was almost as if my body knew that he had helped me through the pain of Jack's memory. I waited patiently for John Calvert to come. I smoothed the front of my dress, imagining it in my mind. It was mint green—not too low cut—with a skirt that tapered out from my waist. The band of fabric around my waist was different than the rest; it was a thick beaded band of an almost brighter green, and a tiny bit of lace stretched over the top portion of the gown.

I smiled as I fidgeted with part of the fabric. I had bought it to spite Cal. It was a dress designed for first class; I knew Cal would have hated the color. He hated green, which was partially why I bought it. But I had bought it knowing Jack liked the color. He had told me so a while ago.

I glanced down at the silk between my fingers. Thinking about Jack didn't hurt to much now; on the contrary, his was a pleasant memory. I could remember everything we had done—how I'd felt, his touch—and there would be a pleasantness about the memory, a sweetness. I still avoided the memory of Jack's death—though even now it haunted my dreams. That memory still brought me pain. Not as much as it used to, but my body was thankful for the lack of pain. As much as I almost hated to admit it, I was healing.

A strange sound stirred me from my thoughts, and I noticed a horse-drawn carriage coming towards me. I smiled—I hadn't since Jack's death. I was just thankful that John had never pressed me to step into a car. _That_ memory was too emotional to quench. When it hit, I was in for a very long day. It hurt worse now that my body was unaccustomed to so much pain.

However, I felt my brow furrow slightly. Had I just called John Calvert by his first name? It had always been a rule for me to even think his full name; I didn't feel comfortable on a first name basis. However, I couldn't help but think I was at least ready to tell him my first name. I had, after all, broken my rule and called him by his first. I bit my lip. I would have to let him know my name. Today.

"Why the sad face?" John asked, his hazel eyes bright with expectation. Not even my usual indifference or my waning misery could keep him from being excited.

I lifted my eyes to his face and smiled. I was surprised to find that I did actually like John's face. It wasn't Jack by far, but he would have wanted me to be happy. After spending a month in the company of a man who never failed to surprise me, I figured John wasn't such a bad person after all.

"Nothing."

"Not scared of carriage rides, I hope?" His tone was teasing, his voice light, but I couldn't help but feel slightly off, slightly sad. I wished I could travel in a car; it would make things so much easier. But the memory of Jack and me, even after all this time, couldn't be erased in the blink of an eye.

John helped me into the carriage and the horse pulled away down the street. I was completely unaware of where he was taking me, but I trusted John. Still, I couldn't resist the urge to ask him.

"Please, John, will you tell me where we are headed?" I asked for the fifth time, though it was first time I had used his name directly. He looked at me, stunned, and I found myself in the same predicament.

"You used my first name." His tone was colored in wonder, amusement, awe. I tried to look like I had meant to use his name, but I was just as surprised as he was. He quickly recovered. "Well, that was certainly new. Although, I distinctly remember telling you that the day you said my first name was the day you told me yours."

I bit my lip. I remembered what he had said, but I was still nervous about telling him. I wasn't too sure why… No one would recognize me, would they? I heaved a sigh and looked him straight in the eye, which was hard to do seeing that I was so nervous. "My name is Rose Dawson."

John smiled. "I like that name. Rose." He smiled, then launched into a conversation. I was only half paying attention; I was more concerned about where we were going. I didn't want to miss anything, either; I had never been to this section of New York. I could tell it was mainly occupied by the first class. Third class people looked like they would be an oddity here.

The carriage came to a stop, and I started to look around me. "Wait, wait!" John said playfully. I looked at him quizzically, and his smile grew. "Close your eyes, Rose."

I gasped. The memory flashed through my mind like pictures, and I felt a small pang in my chest. It wasn't painful, but it was enough to take my breath away. I sucked in the air and quickly closed my eyes to keep John from being suspicious. What would he do? I hoped it wasn't something else that would remind me of Jack; my body would buckle under the pain. It had been without pain for so long.

I fumbled with the seat around me as John helped me from the carriage. I kept my eyes closed, just as he asked me. It was a strange sensation: my body was quivering with excitement; the last time I had been asked to close my eyes and done so was on the bow of the _Titanic_. That had been the first time Jack had kissed me. It had been so sweet, so innocent, I had never wanted it to end.

I coughed at the slight pain that ripped at my chest; I hoped John didn't notice. I felt his hand grab for mine as I stepped from the carriage. Suddenly, my foot slipped—most likely from the metal step—and I fell forward. A gasp of surprise and fear squeaked from my lips, and I put my hands in front of me to protect my face. My eyes flew open as I slammed into something hard, yet not hard enough to be the ground. I looked up, and my lungs failed me. John's face was closer to mine than it had ever been, and a spasm of fear shot through me as I saw John lean closer.

My heart sped up rapidly, my lungs suddenly kicked in, but I was breathing too fast, my pulse was racing, and all the while, I could only think. _Wait!_ my insides screamed. _I'm not ready yet! I don't—I can't… wait…_

My hands unclasped themselves from John's neck. That surprised him, causing his hands to falter, and I slipped from his grasp and onto the ground. Dirt stung my hands as they just barely protected my face. John was muttering his apologies, but I wasn't listening. An odd ringing pressed against my eardrums, and I looked at the dirt in front of me. I didn't mind being here; it gave me a chance to get my bearings. But John was reacting differently.

"Rose! Rose, I'm so sorry I let you go! Rose, really, I'm very sorry…" On and on he apologized. I stopped listening, and a sudden twinge of anger pulsed through my veins. Quite a few images raced across my mind: Jack pulling me over the ledge when I had attempted suicide; Jack pulling me back from the invisible precipice that was my life; Jack catching me during the party below decks, never letting me fall; Jack helping me onto the bow of the _Titanic_, careful to make sure nothing happened; Jack pushing me aside so the chunks of iceberg didn't fall on me; Jack saving me from Cal; Jack saving me from the freezing Atlantic water; Jack… Jack…

_Jack wouldn't have let me fall!_ I thought viciously. But as soon as I had thought those words, I gasped at myself. Anger… I hadn't felt proper anger in far too long. And it was also unfair to judge John next to Jack. I had been in love with Jack; I wasn't in love with John, and he had tried to kiss me.

"… Well, I guess you can see it, now. Wouldn't do to have you keep your eyes closed again," John was muttering as he swiped the dirt from my dress with his hand. I looked up, and my heart completely stopped. There in front of me, not large, but very foreboding, was a small ferry. It was painted in bright colors, navy blue and white, and looked ready to go as it bobbed in the afternoon sun. I felt John take my hand; he was speaking to me, but it was as if everything had been muted. I couldn't hear anything; there was only motion.

I didn't know if I was walking or not, but I was staring at the ferry, my eyes never leaving it, never seeing anything else. I was walking—somewhere; I didn't even know where my feet were going. But I must have been on the ferry, because every part of me suddenly snapped to life. I barely even noticed my hands; they were wet and clammy, and extremely hot.

I grabbed onto the rail for dear life, my gaze fixed on the water below. I could see my reflection, but that didn't help matters much. I soon realized that my whole body was shaking, and something inside of me was frozen. My heart? My lungs? What then? I didn't want to know. Horrible images—horrible pain—shot through me like a bullet. I had no control over them. Once memories that had calmed, they now came rushing back like a wildfire, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Music… laughter… the clink of dishes… the smell of perfume… the chilly Atlantic air… people everywhere… There was something everywhere she looked; smells filled her nose; sounds rang in her ears. I looked around me… Everywhere people were laughing or staring out into the water, but that was not what I saw. People's faces were distorting in fear… They were screaming! They were falling, falling to their deaths! People hit parts of the ship as they fell, and the splashes never ceased to stop. What could I do? I felt my hands fumble in front of me. Where was Jack? Jack! The floor was pitching; everything was swirling around me. Something steadied me, and I looked up into the face. My heart fluttered with surprise, and I smiled at him, tears blurring my vision. It was my Jack… He had come to save me…

Suddenly, everything was dark.

Something was patting my arm. My stomach churned as I felt a sudden wave of nausea course through me. I coughed; shocked that something was coming from my mouth. I attempted to sit up on my elbows, keeping my eyes closed. I knew my head was ridiculously dizzy, but from what?

I opened to find a face in front of me, and like I had expected, everything was spinning. I moaned and shut my eyes, bring a hand to my clammy forehead to hold down a strong wave of nausea. Even with the blackness of my lids, everything was spinning. I felt like I was spinning. My hands felt shaky and cold as well against my sweaty forehead, but I didn't care. What had happened?

"Rose? Rose?"

The voice was strangely dreamlike; concern was no doubt evident in the voice, but there was a pleasant warmth in the way it spoke. The tone was somehow… familiar. I slowly opened my eyes, the face swirling in front of me. I tried to focus, and the face began to stop spinning. I looked up; my heart pounding. I found what I was looking for: stunning blue eyes, deep as the ocean itself, staring back at me. I smiled and put my hand to his face, my fingers touching a long strand of dirty blond hair. _Jack_, my heart ached. I found it hard to breathe; the pain was so deep.

Suddenly, my eyes took in a pair of dark eyes, and dark hair. I gasped and hurriedly sat up. "Jack!" the cry escaped my lips. I hadn't meant to say anything, but I felt that I lost Jack. Again. He was gone from me again. My eyes had deceived me. They had put the face I so longed to see in front of me.

I sank back down from exhaustion, and an arm caught me. "Rose?" the voice said again, softer this time, and I could tell the pitch was different. A strange awareness dawned on me. Was I…? Had Jack already died? I blinked, my eyes refocusing, and everything rushed back to me. It was John that was in front of me. But… where was Jack?

"John?" I croaked. Why did I feel so horrible?

I heard a deep sigh of relief. John's voice reached my ears, but barely. "Oh, Rose! You're all right! Really, I am _so_ sorry!" I wasn't processing what he was saying. What had happened? Why was he sorry? It didn't make sense.

"What…? What happened?" I attempted to sit up; the swirling in my head had begun to slow, and I wasn't quite so dizzy. I glanced around me, slowly, but I had no idea where I was. "Where am I?"

"I'm sorry, Rose. Remember I took you onto a ferry?" John's words brought a sharp pain ripping across my chest. My body doubled over; it hadn't felt pain like this in about a month. I remembered—all the screams, the bodies, the terror. I could still hear them, a dim echo pounding inside the walls of my head. Terror—my terror—pulsed through my veins thick and fast; somehow, I was reliving everything again.

I found out that I had passed out within five minutes of the ferry ride. It immediately had turned around to go back to the harbor, where I had been laid on a comfortable spot near a bench. John had proceeded to wake me up, relieved when I finally had. I shivered. I did not want to go through something else like that.

The whole way back, I fought the pain and exhaustion that tried to stab at my heart. I didn't know how long I could squelch it. We were coming to the seamstress shop, and I was about to get out, when John's hand rested on mine. I looked at him, my heart pounding, my head screaming. I wasn't ready for John to attempt to kiss me again. I remembered what had happened last time.

"Rose, when you were unconscious, you kept muttering something."

My insides froze. What had I said? Was it…?

"You kept saying 'Jack' over and over." His face looked unsure, but I was almost certain mine looked horrified. "Is there something going on between you and somebody else named Jack?"

I started shaking my head. He couldn't bring this up. Any moment the pain would come, and it'd be too much to handle. My mind worked furiously; this wasn't what I had thought he'd say, but it was almost just as bad. "He…" I hesitated, latching on to a sudden idea, "He's my brother. Jack Dawson. He died on _Titanic_." The last sentence was a whisper.

John's eyes grew wide. "Rose, I completely forgot you had been on that ship. Oh, I'm so sorry! I wouldn't have taken you on that ferry ride if I had remembered… Truly, I really am sorry, Rose."

I nodded slightly, hating the lie I had just told. Jack wasn't any old person, let alone my brother. He had been my lover, my life, my everything. I cleared my throat softly.

"Um, John, if it's all right with you, I'd better get going. I'm a little tired."

John nodded knowingly and helped me out of the carriage. As soon as he had rounded the corner, I raced to my apartment as fast as I could. I had to get there soon. The pain was getting overwhelming. I burst into my room and landed on the floor, the pain taking immediate action. I shut my eyes from the tears that spilled through the cracks. I had known it would come sometime soon, harsher and more painful than ever. I knew I would dearly pay for the happiness I had begun to feel.

I couldn't do anything. I was crumpled on the floor, barely breathing; the pain in my chest was unbearable. Every time Jack entered my thoughts, something would shatter, and the broken pieces seemed to stab and burn the places his hands had been. My face stung from the flames underneath my cheeks. How many times had he touched me there? How many times had his fingers caressed my face? How many times had his lips touched mine—softly, passionately, fervently? Too many times to count, and yet they were not enough. I wanted to feel Jack's touch again.

A fresh wave of despair and torment cracked through my body. How many times did I have to tell myself? Jack _wasn't_ coming back! He was _dead_, and there was nothing that I could do about it! I had to accept it; there was no other way to get past this pain that haunted me. But I also knew that there was going to be no escaping the occasional pain that would slice at heart. I had loved—I had loved so deeply that it was something that could never be undone. And it never would be undone. I would always be Jack's, and he would always be mine.


	9. Chapter 9: The Unexpected

9

9. The Unexpected

Jack waited in the park, nervously drumming his fingers on his portfolio. He was meeting the other three men from Joshua Spinnet's office in the largest art museum in New York. For the fifth time since he had sat here, Jack opened the front cover and stared at his most recent drawing of Rose, the one of her holding the flower. How he wished he could really see her—with his eyes, not his mind. He missed her so much.

"Ah, Mr. Dawson!"

Jack hurriedly stood from his seat, nervously wiping his hands on his pants. Mr. Spinnet was already holding out a hand to him, and Jack shook it. Three other men stood behind Spinnet, looking slightly annoyed at having to be there. Jack swallowed. It would be harder to convince them that he was good enough.

"Mr. Dawson, may introduce Sir Collin Newby—" a man with a tall top hat and graying hair stepped forward, shaking Jack's hand— "Harlan Stroffle—" a man with tanned skin shook Jack's hand— "and Benjamin Breckage." Jack shook hands with the third man of the party. The four men sat on a bench while Jack seated himself on one close by. He handed his portfolio to Spinnet, who eagerly took it and proceeded to show Jack's drawings to the other three members.

Jack watched as the men stopped on one drawing in particular—his favorite drawing of Rose. The men were pointing and murmuring, and Jack could only hope that they liked what they saw. Spinnet had at least.

"Mr. Dawson," Sir Collin started, glancing up at Jack, "this woman is _beautiful_. Who is she, if I may be so bold?"

Jack let a wry smile twist his lips. "I met her on _Titanic_, sir." He was about to explain further when Spinnet interrupted him.

"She unfortunately died with the wreck. Mr. Dawson said that he had only seen her from afar, but I think otherwise." Spinnet turned to Jack and winked. Jack swallowed and looked at the floor. How did Spinnet know? Or did he know? Jack glanced up, only to meet Spinnet's eyes once again. He knew that the woman in the picture meant more to Jack than he let on. Jack sucked in a breath, hoping that Spinnet wouldn't ruin anything. Rose's memory was beginning to be slightly less painful, but Jack didn't need any pain in the midst of this.

Sir Collin rifled through the rest of the pictures himself while the other three men took more time to study the one picture of Rose. Jack met Sir Collin's eyes, and felt relief flood through him. It looked like he had two of four votes now. All he really needed was one more vote, and the majority would win. If the men played by majority. After another minute of glancing at the picture, the other three men continued on to the other pictures.

Harlan Stroffle looked up from the pictures once they were finished. "I must say, Mr. Dawson. These are far better than I had expected. Usually Joshua here has a more… let's say liberal?… way of looking at art. But I am thoroughly impressed. Especially by this woman that you sketch so often. The way you draw her is… _captivating_." Harlan looked at the picture once again, shaking his head in awe.

"I, too, am in agreement with Harlan," Benjamin Breckage nodded, also gazing at the picture. "This has got to be the best picture you've drawn out of all the others. And she is beautiful; captivating, just like Harlan said."

Jack nodded, smiling slightly. All four of the men were in agreement about his drawings. That meant that they liked him, but did they have a position for him? Jack glanced from one man to another, and they in turn looked at him. Spinnet was the first to stand, then Stroffle, Breckage, and Sir Collin. Jack stood as well.

"Well, Mr. Dawson, how would you like to see your new office?"

Despite the fact that Jack had been hoping to hear a yes, the confirmation of it slammed into him like a brick wall. His mouth dropped, and his eyes were wide. He couldn't believe it. "I got the job?" he asked happily. All four men nodded, and Jack quickly composed himself, taking his portfolio that was being handed back.

"Sure," Jack said enthusiastically. The four men laughed, Spinnet especially, as they made their way to two expensive looking cars. Jack hesitated for a fraction of a second as a Renault flashed in front of his eyes, a vision of red hair beside it. Jack quickly shook his head and climbed into one of the cars with Spinnet and Sir Collin.

Once they were underway, Spinnet turned to Jack. His face wasn't quite so playful anymore; it looked more serious.

"You did know the woman in the picture, didn't you, Mr. Dawson?"

Jack felt the color rise to his face, and he looked at the carpeted floor. The space was silent for a moment before Jack looked up again. Sir Collin was staring at him now, looking interested in Jack's reaction. Jack sucked in a slow breath.

"Yes. I knew her."

Spinnet smiled, looking like he knew it all along. Sir Collin looked intrigued. "How did you know her?" Jack was surprised to hear Sir Collin speak. Obviously he was a little bit more interested in the mystery lady than Spinnet was. Jack let out a breath that he had been unconsciously holding. He hoped he wouldn't have to tell the two men the entire truth.

"Well… She… I saved her life," Jack said simply, shrugging. A small smile touched his face as he remembered—only too clearly—what had happened. "She was about to jump off the back of the _Titanic_, and she called me crazy. I helped pull her over, and she thanked me by inviting me to dinner. We danced a bit below deck." Jack smacked his lips shut. He was talking about Rose too much. He hoped they hadn't heard his mistake, but Jack elaborated to cover it up. "I didn't see her after that, and then the ship sunk. Her name wasn't on the survivors list."

Sir Collin nodded, looking slightly confused. "And she was third class? But in this picture you draw her as…"

"First class, I know," Jack finished for him. "She was first class."

Sir Collin looked stunned, but to Jack's relief, Spinnet cut in. "That's no problem, Collin, don't look so confused! You know Mrs. Spinnet! After all, she was third class when I married her."

Jack's head snapped up. "She was third class? And you were able to marry her?" He didn't mean for the words to sound so hopeful, but he hadn't even meant to say the words at all. But if this man had married someone from a lower class, couldn't Rose have married him? Jack's heart gave an unwanted twist of pain. Of course she could have. They could have been together.

"Mr. Dawson?" Spinnet asked. Jack looked up, and smiled, apologizing for his sudden daydream. Spinnet smiled, but answered Jack's question. "Yes, I was. It is more common for a man to choose a woman from a lower class than vise versa. Most of the men have money, and the women want that. But you rarely find a first class woman with a third class man." Spinnet eyed Jack knowledgeably. "She must have been a special woman, Mr. Dawson."

Jack's eyes tightened. "She was, Mr. Spinnet." Rose had been special, the only woman of her kind. She had been so much to him…

"Well, here we are!" Sir Collin said cheerfully. Jack quickly gathered his portfolio and stepped into the sunshine. His mouth gaped open as he gazed at the art museum. The building was the largest he'd ever seen, at least five stories high. It was made of faded brick, but the brick added something to the building. It made it look… historical.

The four men led Jack inside. It was he could do not to shout out. Windows were everywhere, and the inside of the building was made of polished wood. There were at least three receptionist desks in the front, and in the back was a wide revolving door that led to the back of the building where the museum was. To the left and right of the revolving door were two staircases, one to classes, and one to offices.

"I didn't know this was a school, too," Jack mused.

Spinnet laughed. "This is the major place for college interns to come if they're interested in art. Our art museum takes up three of the floors, and classrooms occupy half of the fourth floor and the entire fifth floor. Our offices take up only half of the fourth floor. We'll go up to the offices first."

Spinnet directed them to the right stairwell. Once through the door, however, Jack saw two elevators. All five of them managed to squeeze into the elevator on the left; the right one was already in use.

Jack couldn't help the whistle that escaped his lips once he entered the room of offices. Two secretaries sat at one desk, and there were seven rooms behind it. All had doors with windows, but the walls extended up to the ceiling to ensure privacy. Three rooms stretched along the walls on either side, and at the very end of the hall was the largest office. Jack shook his head. How had he managed to get a job _here_? Of all places?

"Mr. Dawson, you can put your portfolio in that third office down the hall there while I quickly make an appointment here," Spinnet mumbled as he began to talk with one of the receptionists. The other eyed Jack curiously, then blushed and flicked her eyes to the floor when Jack glanced at her. He followed the other three men down the hall.

"Right there, Jack. That's your new office." Sir Collin motioned to the office on his left, but Jack hesitated. He glanced at Sir Collin, Stroffle, and Breckage. All three were entering the largest of the seven offices. Jack could barely see four desks in the room, all divided with a wall. Slowly, Jack opened the door to his new office.

A desk made of smoothly shining wood was in front of him, with a small desk lamp and writing utensils towards the front of his desk. A bookshelf full of books that Jack had only imagined reading stood at his disposal, and two chairs sat in each of the front corners of the room. Jack slowly opened the four drawers in his desk. All were empty, ready for him to fill it.

Jack jumped and whirled around at the sound of a knock on the door. It was Spinnet, beckoning to him. "Are you ready to see your classrooms?"

Jack raised his eyebrows. "My… My _classrooms_?"

Spinnet nodded. "Well, yes. You didn't think that you simply be drawing, did you?" He laughed at Jack's expression. "You have a gift of portraying a dying art, excuse the phrase. Portraits have been declining for the past two years. Landscapes are getting to be quite popular, but now doubt you will change that.

"I assume you've done some paintings, am I right?" Spinnet continued.

Jack shook his head. "I've only done pencil drawings, sir." Now that he had this job, he wasn't sure if he could actually do it. "I've never actually used paints."

Again, Spinnet laughed. "Don't worry, Mr. Dawson. Graphite drawings are quite rare in their own respect as well. You truly are a benefit to this institution."

Nodding, a confused smile lifting his lips, Jack turned to place his portfolio onto the desk. His fingers trailed over it, as if afraid to have it out of their grasp. Jack turned to the sound of jingling keys, and Spinnet handed him one.

"It's for the office. You may keep it locked as much as you need." Spinnet's eyes drifted to Jack's portfolio. "That portrait of the lady with the flower… May I put it up in your classroom?"

"It's not for sale," Jack found himself saying.

Spinnet shook his head. "No, no, no, Mr. Dawson. I don't want to buy it. I would just like to know if I could put it in your room. You can see it every day."

The thought was a nice one. Rose would always be in the classroom with him, always glancing at him over her shoulder. Jack nodded, taking the portrait out of the portfolio and handing it to Spinnet. He was almost afraid to let it go, but he knew Spinnet would take care of it. Within seconds Spinnet had found a frame, and tucked the picture neatly beneath the dark wood and glass.

"Well," Spinnet said, glancing back up to Jack. "Shall we show you your classrooms?"

Jack nodded slowly and followed Spinnet out of the office halls and back down the elevators. For the second time Jack descended the stairs, then was led up the second set of stairs towards the classrooms. As with the door to the offices, this door held elevators behind it as well, but there were six elevators instead of three.

Jack felt completely out of place here. He was only twenty, and he was going to be a professor? He was going to teach people who were his age or older. It just didn't seem right. He definitely hadn't gotten training on how to draw; he had taught himself. Maybe that was why people liked his work. It was the way he drew them, something that he had taught himself; he hadn't been schooled on how to draw. He had let his view of the world and all that he had seen influence his pieces.

Before he knew it, they had reached the fourth floor. There were only two classrooms that filled this floor, both of them very large. Jack gulped. He had a feeling that there would be quite a few students attending this school.

"Your classrooms will be on the fifth floor, Jack. Do you mind if I call you Jack?"

Jack shook his head as they proceeded to the fifth floor, this time by a set of stairs placed at the back of the hall. Spinnet soon explained that the elevators only took them from the second floor to the fourth floor.

Five classrooms took up the space on the fifth floor. Spinnet led Jack into the first classroom on the right. Jack couldn't help but notice how big it was. Spinnet proceeded to hang Rose's picture on the wall while Jack took in his surroundings. A desk just as nice as the one in his office rested in the far, front corner of the classroom. There were rows of seats and desk spaces that only divided down the middle to let people pass in and out. The room was made completely of wood, and the floor was carpeted. Jack ran a hand nervously through his hair. He had never imagined that he would work in a place this nice.

"Well, Jack, how do you like the place?" Spinnet came to stand beside Jack, a large smile dividing his beard and mustache.

Jack smiled and cocked his head. "I like it a lot, sir."

"Good!" Spinnet laughed. "Now, let's get you down to the store and get you some good suits." Jack spun to look at Spinnet. New clothes? He… He didn't have the money to buy new clothes, especially the ones that Spinnet was suggesting. Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Spinnet interrupted him.

"Well, as a college professor, nice attire is a must. This is all part of your initiation reward."

"Initiation reward?" Jack asked quizzically.

"Well, yes," Spinnet said, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Whenever we hire a new artist, they receive a fourth of what their paycheck will be so that they can buy all their equipment: drawing utensils, things for their offices, clothes, canvases, paper, that sort of thing. And I am here to help you, since you probably don't know where to go."

Jack had to laugh. "I don't, sir."

Spinnet laughed. The two made their way back down to the first floor, and Spinnet led Jack to two of the best stores for men's clothing. It took most of the afternoon for Jack to buy three new suits, all of which he still couldn't believe he had the money for. The key to his office jangled in his pants pocket; he still like to wear his old clothes. They were comfortable and reminded of a time with Rose.

The two men had reached the park, and Jack turned to face Spinnet. "Are you ready for your schedule?" Spinnet asked, and Jack nodded. Somehow, Spinnet had managed to draw up an entire schedule for Jack for the semester to come. Jack glanced at it. He was to be teaching a portraits class at ten, along with a more advanced landscape class at twelve thirty. A third class was on the effects of pencil drawing that was to take place at three in the afternoon.

"Three classes?" Jack asked unbelievingly.

"I have no doubt about your talent, Mr. Dawson, if that's what you're worried about."

Jack shook his head. "No, I just, didn't think you would give me so much. I mean, I a new professor and all, and I'm only twenty…" Jack let the sentence trail. Neither Spinnet nor the other three men knew how old Jack was. But Spinnet didn't seem to notice it.

"Like I said, Jack: you are bringing back a dying art. All the artists nowadays could take a few lessons from you. And though you are twenty, I am partially glad that you are that young. I think you will be able to relate to the students better than if you were much older."

Jack nodded for a moment, glancing back down at the schedule. In truth, he was very excited to teach these classes. He had no doubt that most of the students would be first class ones, which might have been partially why Spinnet had insisted on Jack buying new clothes. Though they liked his art, they had a reputation to keep up, and they hoped that Jack—despite his lack of class—could heighten their popularity.

"It sounds great," Jack smiled. Rose would have been so proud.

"Good! It's settled then," Spinnet said happily. "Naturally, since tomorrow is the Sabbath, our classes don't meet. But be sure to report to your office a half hour to an hour before your class. I'm sorry that we've given you such short notice, but our previous professor for these classes moved west. The students in those classes haven't met in over two weeks, but this semester is ending soon, so I hope that you will come back to teach."

Jack nodded. "I probably would teach summer classes for you if you needed."

"Well, you just might get your wish!"

Jack smiled, and after thanking Spinnet, headed back to Mrs. Harris's house, his new clothes in tow. Jack glanced back down at the money that he had received. Three hundred dollars. That had been the most money that Jack had ever had with him. Two hundred of it had been spent on the clothes, and the rest was for his drawing materials.

Jack rounded the corner, Mrs. Harris's house in sight. He smiled slightly to himself. Rose would have been proud of him to have gotten such a job. The money wouldn't have been as much as a first classman by far, but he would have been able to support her, to make her comfortable.

A pang in Jack's chest caused him to grunt. Lost love. How cliché it sounded, but how true it really was. He loved Rose more than he had any other person. She had been so special, so unique; often times he had wondered how he had been so lucky, or what he had done to deserve her. But Jack knew he hadn't done anything to deserve. Love was just that way. It never explained why it happened, or why any one person chose the other; it just happened.

"Jack Dawson."

Jack turned, surprised at hearing a mixture of hate and disgust in the voice. As soon as he turned, Jack wished he hadn't. A pair of hard, cold, steel eyes stared back at him, every expression in them menacing. Jack felt the color leave his face and his pulse race. He froze, rooted to the spot where he stood. Jack swallowed with difficulty, blinking in surprise. Why was he suddenly afraid? This man in front of him couldn't do him any harm. Or could he?

Jack nodded, fear gripping his limbs like an invisible force. Staring back at him was none other than Caledon Hockley.

**Hmm, yes I know. Cliffies!! I love them! Anyway, you probably won't have to wait too long for the next chapter… Unfortunately… Anyway, thanks for reading this far into my story, and I hope you continue to read it and review!!**


	10. Chapter 10: Truth or Lies

10

Wow, I'm surprised at how fast I keep whipping up these chapters! This one took me only a day; usually I write chapters in a day and a half. Anyway, I won't be posting this until a little later, since I just updated chapter nine last night. Sorry!! But now that it's updated, read away!!

10. Truth or Lies

As much as Jack hated to admit it, Cal looked… exactly like he had before: rich, powerful, and good-looking. His hair was dark and a little unkempt, which was strange for Cal, but Jack tried to keep his eyes off of the cold eyes. The expression on Cal's face didn't match his eyes. His lips were twisted into a small smirk, his eyebrows pulled low over his eyes. But Jack couldn't look away from Cal's eyes. Something in them froze him, kept him from doing anything. Never had he been afraid of Cal, but here—in this moment—fear was the only thing Jack could feel.

"Cal," Jack managed to say through his course throat. Everything in his mouth had gotten too dry too quickly. Jack couldn't think of anything to do. Could he run? That wouldn't do much good, though. Somehow Cal had found out that Jack was rooming with Mrs. Harris in exchange for caring for her. No, running wouldn't do any good. It was time Jack faced the object of his fears, something he didn't even know he was afraid of. Again, Jack swallowed.

Cal appraised Jack with a bored look on his face, but his voice was full of sarcasm and disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't Jack Dawson, the gutter rat. I see you've managed to land a job somewhere big. You must have bribed them a lot."

Jack didn't answer. It would be pointless to get angry, even though Jack knew he hadn't bribed anybody. Anger was what Cal wanted; to lash out, to do something so Cal could blame it on Jack. Jack would never give Cal what he wanted.

"If you ask me, you must have done something other than bribing. God knows you don't have the money for it." Another push, another shove. Cal wanted Jack angry, but Jack knew better. He wouldn't get angry. He couldn't. Not now.

"Well, I didn't ask you," Jack muttered. He wished his voice would work now, to be like it had been when he had faced Cal before, but his vocal chords weren't working right. He'd have to fix that.

Cal leaned against the building he was standing next to. "I'm not a happy man, Jack. Surely you can see that."

Jack nodded. It was slightly apparent, from the way his eyes fixed their frigid gaze on its victim. Cal's posture, too; he held himself slightly rigid, but he was attempting to take on an air of nonchalance. Jack could see right through it, but still no sound came from his mouth.

"Good. Then we're on the same page. If I'm not mistaken, you on the other hand, seem to be quite comfortable." A sneer twisted Cal's features even more.

Jack tried to hold his ground, and again he said nothing. But Jack shook his head. He was only lucky to have found a home with Mrs. Harris and pull off the job at the art institute. There wasn't much else to it.

A smirk crossed Cal's face. "You know, Jack, I've never quite managed to think of you as the stupid type. You always seemed much smarter than that, Jack. I guess you lost your touch…"

Jack's hands balled into his fists. He didn't know if he could take much more of Cal. The man just rubbed him the wrong way.

"I guess it doesn't matter now, Cal, does it?" Jack asked through his gritted teeth. "You got what you want. You got your glory and riches."

"Oh?" Cal challenged. "You really think so?"

"Yeah," Jack said loudly, waving his hand around him. How had he suddenly managed to get so cocky? "You've got the whole city revolving around you, don't you?"

Cal shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. It was I who told Spinnet to actually interview you…"

Jack's face paled. "_You_ told him about me? _You_ were the one who told him to interview me and look at my drawings?"

"Don't act so surprised, Jack." Cal's face smiled wickedly. "You said yourself that I am a very powerful man. And like I said before: I always win. Don't you remember, Jack? While we were watching Rose on that lifeboat."

Jack's stomach flipped. Of course he remembered. But he still couldn't believe that Cal had gotten him the job. He didn't want anything to do with Cal. "I still can't believe that you got me the job," Jack scoffed, his eyes wandering to the ground.

Again, Cal shrugged. "I had to keep tabs on you somehow, Jack. I've been looking for you for a long time."

Cal smiled hatefully when Jack snapped his head up. "_You_ had to keep tabs on _me_? I thought you were a very powerful man, Cal." It was Jack's turn to taunt, and Cal didn't seem to like getting a dose of his own medicine. "And you said that I wasn't too smart, huh? Well, then if I evaded you this long, I must've been smart enough."

"Enough," Cal growled threateningly.

Jack continued. "If you've been looking for me then you also must not be as powerful as you think you are. I'm what—a lower class person—and you can't even get enough information to find me, let alone follow me? So much for your power, Cal."

Cal's hands flew in front of him, grabbing Jack's shirt and throwing him against the wall. Jack grunted as his back slammed against the brick, but he stared into Cal's eyes, challenging him with his gaze. Cal's hands moved to Jack's neck, squeezing it tighter and tighter.

"Go on, Cal. Do it," Jack bluffed. He knew Cal _would_ do it, and that was what scared him, but suddenly, he really didn't have anything to live for. The one thing he would have done anything for was dead; she was never coming back. What would it matter? It wouldn't.

But Cal did the exact opposite. He released Jack's neck, wiping his hands quickly on his pants. For one brief moment his eyes held shame, but anger quickly lighted them once more. Jack tried to resist the urge, but he rubbed his neck anyway. Before Jack knew it, Cal's cool countenance was back.

"I always win, Jack. You know that."

Jack shook his head. "No you didn't win. You didn't win Rose, did you?"

Cal's mouth twisted into a frown, and his whole body was suddenly shaking from anger. Once again, he grabbed Jack's shirt and shook him. "Where is she?" Cal yelled, sticking his face in Jack's. "Where is she? I know she's with you!"

Jack shoved Cal away with his hands. "Chill out, Cal," Jack muttered while he smoothed his shirt.

Cal attempted to smile, but it was poorly done. "I don't care, Jack. I know Rose is with you, and I want her back. I am a powerful man, more powerful than you could ever imagine. If you don't tell me where she is right now, I will have your head this time, and there will be nothing holding me back.

"You know that as a first classman with money I can get away with your death. It won't be reported over the newspapers; poor Mrs. Harris won't even know it. Your death will be the consequence of a simple action gone wrong. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Dawson? Or do I have to threaten you more?"

Cal raised his eyebrows, and Jack unconsciously bit his lip. What choice did he have? Other than telling the truth? Rose was dead; Jack had at least attempted to grasp that, but Cal was hanging on to ghosts long past. He wouldn't learn anything from Jack that was for sure.

"All right," Jack nodded, and he could see Cal's face settle into a satisfied smile. "I'll tell you what happened Cal."

"From the beginning?"

"From the beginning." Jack hesitated a moment. Should he tell Cal what had happened? It would only be from the time that Jack had been rescued. Cal didn't need to know anything else about what had happened between him and Rose. Especially what had happened in the cargo hold. Nobody really needed to know anything that had happened between the two of them. It was Jack and Rose's secret, their love, their lives that had been shattered; hers prematurely; his permanently.

"I'm waiting." An impatient look now lined Cal's features, and Jack took a breath, preparing himself for what Cal might do.

"Rose helped me from the ship—"

"Yes, yes, I know that already!" Cal was clearly irritated now.

But Jack wouldn't back down. "If you want to hear what happens, then you'll have to listen to when I start and what I choose to say." Jack stared Cal down, hoping his gaze was as piercing as he meant it to be. Cal finally nodded, and Jack went on. "Rose helped me from the ship, and after that—as you remember—she refused to get on the boat, and you shot at us."

Cal scowled, but Jack ignored it. He'd stall Cal as long as he could, but Cal was not a man to sit around and do nothing. Jack had witnessed that first hand.

"After that we ran to the stern of the ship. I think you remember seeing it? Straight up in the air? Well, Rose and I were on top of the railing, see…" Jack stopped when Cal closed his eyes in what could only be disbelief. "And then we fell into the water. I helped her onto a board, and we waited until the rescue boats came. I was in the hospital on the _Carpathia_ as well as the hospital here."

Surprise suddenly flitted across Jack's features. He… remembered. He hadn't been able to for so long. He remembered—only slightly, though—being lifted from the water and into one of the lifeboats. Something slightly warmer than he was placed next to him, along with blankets and such. He remembered waking up in the hospital aboard the _Carpathia_. It had been filled with people that had been victims of the icy water, but after that, Jack didn't remember too much else. He did, however, remember waking up in a New York hospital.

"I don't get it, Dawson! What does this have to do with Rose? What does it have to do with the fact that I'm searching for her!"

Jack let a wry smile part his lips. Here would be the killer. Here he would test Cal's ability to stay under control. Here was the part that Jack knew would tear his insides up like a machete. But he had to do it. He had to say it. There was no other option. It was the only thing he could do.

"Because Rose is dead," Jack's voice whipped from his throat, hard like a whiplash and just as cutting. Jack couldn't tell what his words had done to Cal, but Jack knew what had just happened inside of him. The wound that had slowly been healing had burst open once again. He didn't want to come to terms with Rose's death. He wanted to believe that she was alive and well, and that—even if she wasn't with him—she was happy. All he wanted was for her to be happy.

"You won't get what you're searching for, Cal. I know where she is: she's down at the bottom of the Atlantic, and if you had any sense in that pigheaded brain of yours, you'd let her go, just like I have." Jack secretly cursed his voice. It had cracked twice, both at very inopportune moments.

Cal smiled knowingly. "I know you, Dawson. You haven't _really_ let her go, have you? Yes, you just say you have. Helps you sleep at night, hmm?" Jack felt his anger heat his cheeks. Fortunately, Cal didn't know how right he was. It was the only way that Jack could fall asleep. He hadn't stopped dreaming of Rose since he had first met her. He tried not to feel the sickness that the lonely nights always brought.

"Well, Dawson, I can't blame you. She was exquisite, don't you think? A rare flower in perfect bloom… And then _you_ showed up." Cal spit out the last sentence; Jack didn't know that so much hate and so much anger could be summed up in one tone. But somehow Cal had done it, and Jack felt that familiar, icy twinge of fear.

"_You_ had to ruin everything." Suddenly, Cal's face changed. It was no longer angry; it was… smug. "But no longer. I shall find her, with or without you. Then you two will get your just rewards." A laugh filled with pure malice and evil escaped Cal's throat. "I will, Jack. Just like I said: I always win."

Jack shook his head. "You'll never find her."

"Never?" Cal chuckled. "I think you are quite mistaken." Cal began to walk away, then turned back to Jack. "Isn't it funny… None of us had the time to go back and get our things, especially Rose—what with saving you and all—and yet somehow, I find _this_ in the road."

Cal flung something at Jack, and Jack caught it smoothly between his fingers. His eyes bulged as he looked at it.

"Think on it, Dawson. I know I did." Cal left laughing.

Slowly, as if the item in his hand were made of glass, Jack opened his hand. In them rested a beautiful comb. A butterfly was crafted out of a mixture of gold and some other element, but a rare gem, something that looked like a cross between and emerald and a diamond filled in the spaces of the butterfly.

"Rose's comb," Jack muttered. He turned, but Cal was gone, vanished. Again, Jack glanced at the comb, carefully running his fingers over it. He felt as if a piece of his heart—though microscopic—had been returned to him. A part of Rose, too; he had a part of her now. Was she really alive? Was what Cal had said true?

Jack looked down the street, but nothing but his memories seemed to hold evidence of Cal being there to tell him that Rose was alive. Jack started. Cal didn't really say that Rose was alive, and yet he had. Jack tried to replay Cal's words his mind exactly.

"_None of us had time to get our things, especially Rose, and yet somehow, I find _this_ in the road."_

Jack exhaled quickly. Cal had come very close to telling him that Rose was alive. But Jack almost didn't want to believe him. What if Cal were lying? If he was, then he would be playing Jack; the ultimate truth equaling the ultimate lie. Cal would be playing on Jack's emotions, hoping that Jack might fall for what he hoped would be true: Rose being alive.

He couldn't allow that. Jack couldn't allow himself to believe that Rose was alive, especially if that was what Cal was hoping for. Cal could be so tricky, so nasty, that Jack really had to wonder at Cal's power in society. He had made it possible for Jack to get the job at the art institute; would he sabotage it now?

The comb seemed to weigh pounds as it rested in Jack's hand. He studied it, his mind working furiously. And yet, here was his proof that Rose _was_ alive. And still… How did he know that Cal hadn't gone to his room and grabbed Rose's comb? Jack shook his head. That would have been impossible. Why would Cal have grabbed something as trivial as Rose's comb? It held no value to him.

Jack's hand shook. This had to be Rose's. How else would anyone have found it if Rose herself hadn't dropped it or taken it from her room? Jack's heart fluttered under his chest. Rose was alive. She was _alive_.

--

Before Jack knew it, a month had passed by. He couldn't be sure if it was his sudden busyness teaching classes at the institute and beginning to draw portraits, or if it was the fact that the skies had suddenly become brighter. He had accepted the fact now that Rose was alive, but he hadn't seen Cal for a month.

Jack was glad that he hadn't seen Cal for a while, but in a strange sense, Jack wanted to see him again. Cal might be able to answer Jack's questions. Jack shook his head. Cal wouldn't answer his questions, no matter how much Jack wanted to know. Cal cared only for himself, but Jack was afraid that Cal might find Rose too quickly. If he did, what would he do?

"Um, Professor Dawson?"

Jack's head snapped up. He looked towards his door, surprised to see one of his students here. She was a smart and talented girl with black hair and grey eyes. "Oh, sorry, Helen. I was… thinking."

Helen giggled. "I could tell." She moved a little closer, a blush coloring her pale cheeks. Jack glanced at her furtively, confused by her small bout of giggles. In fact, he didn't really know what was up with all the girls in his classes. They flitted their eyes at him, blushed when he made eye contact, and giggled to each other whenever he would explain certain things about portraits. A topic all of them liked to hear was the picture he had drawn of Rose. He definitely didn't like talking about it, but all the girls cooed with delight whenever he would tell them that she wasn't alive.

Which, in all reality, was very untrue. Jack had completely accepted the fact that Rose just might be alive, and yet he almost refused to hope. He didn't want to be completely crushed again. He had loved her so much, so deeply, that anything to deny her existence could crush him beyond repair.

"… so, could you help me with it, Professor?"

"Hmm? I'm sorry, say that again, Helen?" Jack still wasn't used to being called "professor", but he was trying to get used to it. This time, Jack tried to listen to Helen's request. He found it strange, though, that she would want him to help her draw her picture, but Jack shook his head.

"Sorry, Helen. But you have to figure this out by yourself. This is your grade. I can only tell you so much. You just have to let your imagination flow, you know what I mean?" She shook her head, so Jack tried to explain. His eyes wandered over to the picture of Rose, and he led Helen to it. "See this picture?"

"Yes, Professor. It's beautiful."

Jack looked down in surprise, noticing that Helen was blushing, and her eyes were to the floor. Awareness suddenly dawned on Jack. He had noticed that most of the girls talked about him, but he hadn't thought it was serious. Jack's face paled. He _was_ their age and yet their teacher as well. Was it so far fetched…?

Jack nervously cleared his throat. "See how I drew the shading first; the outline is barely visible. It's just to give me an idea about where my lines will go and the shading that I will eventually color. See how here I did this curling effect for her hair? I then added darker parts and lighter parts to show where the light hits and where there is shadow." Jack continued to explain the picture further, and it was a good half hour before Helen nodded a thank you.

She blushed a deep pink before leaving, and Jack shook his head. There was only one woman that could possibly fix him from the sorry state his heart was in, and that one person was Rose. If she was alive. Jack felt a familiar pang in his chest. He wished so much that she really was alive.

Jack gathered up the drawings that his students had turned in. Each of them required a grade, and he would have to write a small section on why he graded it as he had. He wished he didn't have to do that; art wasn't really something to be graded. But then again, he really did like his job here. It gave him the chance to share what he loved most about art with people.

He was sure the students didn't even know that he was third class, but lately, he felt as if he was losing himself. He hadn't worn his regular clothes at all except at night, and that was only for a little while. He didn't like pretending. He had to pretend to be a happy, carefree teacher that had lots of money and that talked a certain way. Jack liked the way he had spoken, and though he had just received a paycheck, he couldn't bring himself to leave poor Mrs. Harris. Her health was declining and Jack felt the responsibility of taking care of her.

Suddenly, he knew how Rose had felt. She had felt so fake, having to put on a false smile for all the people in first class; she had had to pretend to be happy, and that was what had made her most unhappy.

Jack made his way down the elevators and stairs. He was smiling at the thought of how much happier Rose had been with him, when a loud voice came from the front of the building. There was something familiar to it; the way that it pitched up and down depending on the mood. Jack glanced around the corner, and his eyes widened. Forgetting that he had an appointment in his office, Jack walked to the front of the institution.

"Molly? Molly Brown?" he asked incredulously.

Her grey eyes turned to him. "Jack Dawson?" Her face immediately crinkled into a wide smile. "Well, if it isn't Jack Dawson! How have you been, son?"

"Good," Jack nodded. "You look good, yourself, Molly."

The older lady blushed, then pushed Jack with her elbow. "Naw, you don't really mean that Jack! I know you too well!" The two of them laughed, then Molly turned to him, her face more serious. "How's Rose, Jack? You know I'd love to see her."

Jack's smile faded. He wasn't ready to tell anyone that she was alive yet, not even Molly. He still had his doubts, however few it might be. "She didn't make it, Molly. It's just me."

Molly's face fell. "Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry!" Her arm rushed to his back, and he looked up at her, tears in his eyes for the first time in a long time. He never really had cried for Rose. He had always thought of it as his duty to be strong; he wanted Rose to see that he was staying strong for her. But even now, just the few tears were enough.

Molly nodded in understanding. "You do what you need to Jack. If you need to reach me, I'll be here. Here's my address." She quickly wrote it down and handed it to him. Jack smiled. If there was time, he certainly would call Molly. She had been kind enough to lend him one of her suits for the dinner party on _Titanic_.

Jack hurried to his office. He was relieved to find out that one of the students had canceled their appointment. Jack quickly fished in his drawers until he pulled out Rose's comb. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, holding it to him, cherishing it. Was Rose really alive? He had tried to find her this past month, but all the classes and teaching had gotten in the way. He had often gotten very little sleep, worrying if he had maybe passed her and not known it.

He hated the thought of not knowing, of not finding her. What if Cal already had? What would he do to Rose? Jack didn't want to think about it. Quickly, he grasped the clip in his hand and walked out of the office purposefully. He was going to find Rose. He had two days off; he would find her now. He had to. It was all he could do. She was always in his mind, in his dreams, even in his classroom now. She haunted his every thought.

The sun was disappearing behind the clouds when Jack walked out of the office. A new purpose had lightened his step. He was going to find Rose tonight; he had to. He couldn't live without her anymore. He had to find out if she was alive or not.

As Jack rounded the corner to Mrs. Harris's house, a smooth voice caused him to jump around.

"Dawson. We meet again."

Jack didn't need his eyes to know who the person was. After one long month, Cal had finally caught up to Jack. It wasn't exactly that Jack minded seeing Cal again; it was that ridiculous fear that crept up Jack's limbs at the sound of his voice, and unwanted hold he had over Jack concerning Rose's existence.

"Cal," Jack acknowledged. When Cal didn't say anything, Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. Cal's silence was worrying Jack more than if he had shouted. "What do you want, Hockley?"

"I want your help, Dawson. I'm a desperate man. And desperate times call for desperate measures." His face was annoyingly smug.

"I don't understand."

Cal thought a moment. "I'm a businessman, Jack. I always have been." He paused, letting it sink into Jack's head. "However, I make an exception by extending this offer to you; something once in a lifetime."

"You mean someone in a lower class position such as myself?" Jack corrected.

Cal shrugged, looking nonchalant, but Jack knew he had it right. "Look, Dawson, I've a proposition for you, if you'll take it."

Jack shifted his weight nervously. He didn't want to trust Cal, and yet some insane part of him wanted to as well. He was torn; he didn't know what to do. Finally, he decided to listen first. "Keep going."

A smile touched Cal's lips, almost like he knew he had won. "It's very simple, Dawson, as long as you follow the rules."

"Just get to the point," Jack said irritably. He was getting tired of Cal beating around the bush. Cal might have Jack's attention, but Jack wasn't going to give it to Cal forever. He'd have to work for it.

"I've found Rose." The simple statement caused Jack's pulse to race. "However, she's very suspicious of me, and refuses to see me. I think it would be wiser for her to see you. I promised her that she could see you. I'll pay you anything you want, but if you come with me, I promise that you will see her."

"And the rules?" Jack definitely wasn't convinced, but he desperately wanted to believe all of what Cal was saying. He would get to see Rose! No more waiting, no more searching! He would be led right to her.

"You don't cause any trouble, such as trying to convince her that I'm a no-good fool, and I'll let you two go free."

Jack couldn't deny the look of sincerity that Cal's face held. But could he trust Cal? So far Jack had no reason to doubt Cal; after all, Cal had been the one to tell him that Rose was alive, to give him hope. Could he betray that hope?

Jack inwardly shook his head. He owed Rose that. He owed it to her to see her, to touch her, to tell her that everything was going to by okay. He had to see her. But also, what other choice did Jack have? Cal was going to win anyway; he would find some way to make Jack convince Rose to marry the scoundrel.

A dim smile lighted his lips for a moment, then Jack pressed them into a thin line. He nodded tersely. "All right. You've got a deal."

A smile more ugly than Jack had ever seen contorted Cal's lips. "Excellent. I'll make sure you're well paid. Meet me here in ten minutes."

Jack watched Cal's figure retreat into the setting sun. Though happy about the prospect of seeing Rose, a strange feeling twisted his stomach. Now that he had told Cal we would do it, he was regretting the decision. He had been so sure, so confident, but then again, Cal was a good liar. Jack remembered telling him so. The queasy feeling only grew. Cal was a very good liar; he had to have been to have gotten into a lifeboat to save himself. Jack kicked the dirt in frustration. What had he done?


	11. Chapter 11: The Visitor

11

**Hey, guys!! Just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews they've been giving me; I love them!! I'm very happy that ya'll keep reading my story; I was hoping that I wasn't too excited that I thought it was good, but anyway, if ya'll could, **_**please, please, please**_** check out my Twilight one-shot. It's short and I don't think it got a very good chance of getting seen, and I'd love to have more reviews!! If you'd like to read it, just visit my profile!! Thanks, readers!!**

11. The Visitor

It had been two days since John had taken me on the ferry, and I hadn't seen him in all this time. He had asked about me while I worked, but Cathy had told him that I was out at the moment. I was so thankful for her. After the ferry… I wasn't too sure I wanted to see John again. It seemed like everything I did around him reminded me in some way of Jack. Now that I had healed, my body wasn't used to such mournful pain, and it was almost crippling.

The monotony of every day seemed to be eating my nerves raw. Every moment there was time to think, and there was nothing that could take my mind off of it. I had three dresses that needed sewing, but none of them captured my attention. I thought about him every moment of every day.

A few tears leaked from my eyes. Was he sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the ocean? I shook my head. I couldn't be thinking about this. My head was swirling with grief, and I remembered the face that had stared back at me in the mirror this morning. It was just like it had been a month ago. In two days I had lost all the weight I had gained; I had no appetite for food after the ferry. I didn't sleep for any of these forty-eight hours. I had dark circles under my eyes; the only thing that shone was my hair. My skin was too pale.

I was lifeless again. Completely.

I let out a small gasp as the needle pricked my finger. I felt Cathy's hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. I turned to her, only to see that her eyes were puffy and her cheeks slightly red.

"Cathy?" I immediately jumped out of my chair, the dress forgotten. "Cathy, are you all right?"

Cathy nodded, but I didn't believe her. "Rose," she sighed, "take the rest of today and tomorrow off. I can't bear to see you like this. It's only been two days, and I don't recognize you anymore. You've got to get better."

My eyes widened in shock, and tears suddenly streaked down my cheeks. She couldn't do that. She couldn't. My job was the only thing that kept me relatively sane. If I didn't have something to do, I would go crazy. Even if I did think about Jack during work, I didn't care any more. That had been one thing to keep me away from my house, to keep me off the streets where John could find me.

But he didn't know where I lived.

Relief swept through me, but it was fleeting. He could find me. He had found the seamstress shop hadn't he? I collapsed to the floor, my stomach feeling nauseas. I hadn't eaten in two days nor had I slept. I knew that I was physically drained, but it was so much more of an emotional draining. My aching heart was wreaking havoc on my body; the pain was really too much to bear. Pain hadn't been part of my life for a month now, and I knew my body was seeking relief. But I wouldn't let it. My mind protested violently against it.

I didn't want to see John again. Or did I? _No!_ my mind screamed at me. _He's done so many things that are too much like Jack. If you stay longer it'll kill you!_ I did agree with the statement, but at this moment it was all I could think of. Maybe if I could postpone the pain then I'd live a little bit longer. The pain would come suddenly, viciously, and then I would be gone.

"Rose!"

The cry broke through the fog that had clouded my mind, and I found myself sitting at a table, someone forcing something liquid in my mouth. I heard my name again, and I finally opened my eyes. Cathy was in front of me, her face tight with strain and concern. My mouth parted, and warm liquid flowed into my mouth again.

"Cathy…" I murmured, my voice hoarse. "I'm sorry." I could hear the sobs that threatened to break through, but I didn't care. Not anymore. I was through pretending.

"Go home, Rose." Cathy's voice was thick with emotion. "You've got to get better. You're like a daughter to me, and I can't stand to see you like this."

I nodded absently, still swallowing the soup that Cathy was spoon feeding me. My own mind voiced Cathy's unspoken worry. What had happened to me? How had I gotten so bad in two days? It had taken me a month to at least look a little bit better, and in less than two days I was back to how I had been: dead. I was alive on the outside, but the inside of me—my heart, my soul—was dead.

I held up my hand slowly. It seemed to take so much of my strength. "Thank you, Cathy," I whispered. "I'll get some rest." I nodded, but not to Cathy. It was a nod more for myself; I was trying to convince myself that I would get some rest, even though I knew I wouldn't get any. It was simply inevitable; Jack wouldn't go away quickly, but I didn't want him to. I wanted him to stay forever.

Quickly, with no thought to the dresses or to my things, I walked out of the seamstress shop, my head down. I didn't want to see where I was going. I didn't want to risk lifting my head; I might spot John, and that would be the death of me. I didn't want to see anyone right now.

My feet carried me to a familiar spot; familiar because of the sorrow that accompanied me when I visited this place, but my eyes had not seen it for a while. I hadn't been here in a long time. I almost felt as if I had betrayed Jack. Was that why the pain was getting worse? Because I hadn't remembered him? A wry smile twisted my lips. I hadn't forgotten him, not in the least. But a small twinge of guilt churned my stomach. I hadn't really been thinking about Jack. I had… enjoyed… the time that I had spent with John.

The small stone rested in front of me, a few dogwood petals surrounding it. I felt a pain worse than I had ever known wretch my heart. Jack! Why couldn't he have lived? I hated living; I hated it. There was no point now that Jack was gone. He was the one reason for living, and that reason was gone. All that was left was a promise. But what good would a promise do? I wanted to break that promise.

"Rose?"

I spun around, my eyes narrowing as I saw John Calvert standing behind me. A strange fit of anger shot up my nerves; how dare he be here! This was a special place. He didn't belong here, and I didn't want him here. But my body had a different idea. It wanted me to walk to him, to let him hold me, to be my comfort. He had been before after all; he had helped ease the pain of Jack's death.

My legs took a step towards him, and my anger melted. I tried to summon it back, but anger apparently wasn't something that I could control. My legs took another step, and I bit my lip in concentration, trying to fight my arms' want: to wrap them around John's shoulders and cry.

"Look, Rose, I'm sorry. Really." His words came out rushed, but I was only half listening anyway. My body was desperately trying to find the fix from the pain; but I wouldn't let my mind give in. I couldn't. "I didn't realize that your brother had died on the ship, and I'd really like to see you more. I realize now that it really was something tragic. Especially seeing what it did to you, Rose. Please forgive me…"

I couldn't fight any longer. I cry, somewhere between a sob and a scream wretched itself from my throat, and I flung my arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. I could feel his surprise, but he put his arms around me, comforting me, just like I had wanted to. I felt angry at myself. My body was getting what it wanted, but my mind was completely tormented.

"I forgive you," I whispered into John's shirt.

He chuckled and stroked my hair. I'll see you tomorrow, Rose. Get some sleep, all right? I'll see how you are in the morning."

I nodded, managing a small smile through my tears. Maybe John wasn't so bad after all. Maybe it was all my imagination, because he wasn't like Jack. But as I watched John walk away, I knew that there wouldn't be anyone else like Jack, no matter how hard I looked. Jack had been one of a kind.

Slowly, my movements stalled by exhaustion, I started walking back to my apartment. I glanced back at the sky, and it looked lsightly brighter, not too dim, but the colors definitely weren't as bright as they had been with Jack. He had made everything around me glow. The sunset was pink and gold and purple, very much like the sunset on the bow of the _Titanic_. But I set my mind far from the bow of the ship. I didn't need any other memories sparking unwanted pain.

I could see my home in sight. Jack would have liked it. At least, I thought so. It definitely wasn't first class, but I hadn't wanted anything first class. I lived the way that I had wanted to live had I been happy. I would have been spending my time with Jack, even if we weren't rich. But we would be _happy_. We wouldn't be sitting at some dinner party with fake smiles plastered on our faces talking about politics or other unimportant things. We would be really be smiling and laughing. We would be enjoying each other's company.

A twinge of sorrow touched my heart, and I quickly tried to wipe away the thought. But it was so hard. It was something that I had wanted very badly. I wanted to be with Jack so badly, but again I had to hit myself with the cold, hard truth. I wouldn't be seeing Jack again. I wouldn't be sitting next to him enjoying the sunset, nor would I be laughing and smiling with him. I wouldn't be reliving the fourth day of the voyage with him right beside me. I wouldn't see his smile; I wouldn't see his blue eyes laughing. I wouldn't see him ever again.

I thought about the clothes I wore. Most were just a tiny bit fancier than most third class women's, but I did blend in well. I was very well hidden, especially since I mostly wore a scarf over my head. I didn't want anyone to recognize me, and I didn't think they would, but I definitely didn't want to take the chance.

My hand absently felt around my throat. I could still feel the heart of the ocean around my neck. I could feel its weight on my shoulders, and the weight of it on my mind, reminding me of my previous life, of what I had lived, and who I had begun to live for. I wished I could see him just once more…

A hand wrapped its fingers around my arm, and I smiled slightly. It was kind of John to come see if I was all right, but there really was no need. I turned to tell him I was all right, that I would get better, when everything froze. Time ceased to exist. It was just me and the man in front of me. I hadn't seen him for so long… I hadn't thought I ever would! I had thought that he was…

I wished I had been prepared for it. Everything inside of me snapped to attention, as if it was waking from a very long sleep. My heart stuttered and pounded in my chest, sending adrenaline pumping through my veins. Adrenaline. I hadn't felt that in so long. I missed the feeling. I had missed a lot of this feeling. Even still, though I was glad to have my feeling back, I couldn't help but wonder…

"Cal," I whispered hoarsely, finally finding my voice. "What… what are you doing here?" I couldn't think of a more inopportune moment for him to find me, but I couldn't think of anything else. I had tried to stay away from him for so long; couldn't he just leave me alone? He had to know that I was never going to marry him, not after what he did to me or Jack.

But he didn't answer my question. He stood there, a look of triumph on his face. I shuddered, not wanting to think of exactly what triumph there was. His hair was still the same, just a little bit messier than I remembered seeing it, and his posture and weight were the same. He looked exactly as he had before. But there was something else, something different that I hadn't caught on first glance.

I felt my heart speed with fear. It was his eyes. They alone had been the one thing to change. There was a coldness, an immeasurable amount of bitterness that shone through them. I felt myself shiver as if I had been doused in cold water. His gaze pierced through me, leaving me feeling breathless, weak.

"Hello, Rose," he murmured, a smirk appearing on his lips.

I still didn't answer. I wasn't sure if I wanted to. Silence just might be the best thing to do for right now, but I wasn't sure how he would react. Violence? I knew he had before when he had hit me and turned a table over. I didn't want to experience that again. I hated that kind of fear. Where were Jack's arms when I needed them?

A fake look of concern flashed across Cal's face. "My goodness, Rose, you look terrible!" He attempted to put a coat on me, just as he had the night of the sinking, but I shrugged out of it, handing it back. I didn't want anything to do with him. The gesture caused a quick look of anger to flit across his face, but it was fleeting.

"Come back to my house with me. How about it? My maid will serve us hot tea and cakes, and you'll get some of your color back."

I shook my head. Where was all of this coming from? Cal had never been so kind. Why now? What was he planning? Knowing Cal, it was something suspicious and something I wouldn't want to get involved with. I tried to move, but it was impossible. I was frozen, rooted to the spot where I stood, and there was no going back. I would have to face Cal, face my fears, but I knew I wasn't strong enough. I needed Jack with me. He would help me fight them.

"Come on, Rose," Cal urged kindly. "You can get cleaned up and everything."

His hand touched the small of my back, and I suddenly found my legs. I moved away from his hand, fear shining through my eyes. I knew he could see the fear, smell it even. I was deathly afraid of him, and he knew it. He would play it, just like he had played me before.

"I don't want to go," I mumbled breathlessly. I didn't want to go anywhere alone with Cal. It would definitely be bad news.

A sudden fit of anger flashed across Cal's face, and I jumped away from him. I gasped as I felt a wall behind me; I didn't have anywhere to go. I stepped away from the wall and into the open, feeling slightly less vulnerable, but the feeling was overwhelming.

"You're coming with me, Rose." His tone was definitive, leaving no room for arguing. But I found one.

"I don't have to. I live on my own now. I'm not your wife, nor am I your fiancée. I never wanted to be anyway." I paused, a sudden strength possessing me, allowing me to talk. "I don't have to obey you, Cal."

I turned to walk away, but his hand gripped my arm hard and fast. All the strength that had been there before was now gone. It was replaced by fear, fear of the greatest kind. His fingers dug into my skin, slowing the flow of blood, and I whimpered in pain as he pulled me around to face him.

"You are not going anywhere, Rose. You are coming with me." His face was completely serious, and angry.

I shook my head, but his grip grew tighter, and I buckled under the pressure. I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "What do you want me for, anyway? I don't have any money, Cal. Mother never did either."

A wry smile touched his lips. "You know, I had to go through a lot to get your mother to tell me where she had found you. I've been watching you this whole day today, trying to find an opportunity to talk to you."

His eyes suddenly glowed with malicious intent. "Why do I want you, Rose? Well, if I can't have you, then no one else will. I will make sure that no one else will be able to have you. But before I do, you are going to be marked as mine. And I won't let you forget it."

I gasped in horror. Did he…? But I didn't really have time to process his last statement. The lack of sleep and food were really taking its toll, and I was having trouble keeping up. "Mother told you?" I whispered.

Cal nodded. "Of course, she's useless now, too. No one else will have her either." Cal leaned in closer to me, his face unbearably close. "No one messes with me, Rose. You should have known that."

I struggled slightly, but it was no use. It was as if he almost hadn't felt it. My arm was in serious pain right now, and it was all numbing my mind's sharpness. I felt dehydrated and sleep-deprived; how was I going to survive my interrogation? I felt extremely lightheaded, and I knew my heart was pounding harder than it had in exactly a year.

I swallowed with difficulty and met Cal's steel eyes. An icy twinge of fear froze everything in its wake. He was staring at me, but I had to ask. "What did you do with my mother?"

An evil smile more wicked than I had ever seen twisted Cal's face. "I used her then got rid of her. She was of no use to me after I had gotten what I wanted."

"You mean…?" I gasped in horror.

Cal laughed. "Yes, dear, sweet Rose. I used her, then killed her." I was too shocked to speak. "And the same will happen to you, Rose. I will use you for my pleasure, then I will kill you, too."

I heard the scream escape from my lips before I even realized that I was screaming. Cal shoved his hand into my mouth. Suddenly, the fog cleared. It was as if a large wind had blown it away, leaving nothing but a clear conscious. Instinct kicked in, and I brought my teeth on Cal's hand. He cried out in pain, and I jerked my knee up, catching his stomach. His hand finally loosened, and I wretched free of his grasp.

I raced through the crowd, hearing footsteps behind me, and I pushed myself faster. I couldn't let him catch me. People didn't part nearly as well as I would have liked, but I pushed them away fast enough. I tried to get them behind me to slow Cal down as well, but I wasn't too sure how well it was working.

I glanced furtively behind me, but it wasn't secret enough. I glimpsed Cal, and he was closer than I wanted. I shoved myself into an alley, knowing that with less people Cal would be more able to catch me. But I didn't care. I had to get out of here; I had to survive!

Nothing was on my mind except escape. Where could I go? I heard Cal's feet slapping on the ground beneath us, but I flew through other sections of town, even ones I didn't know. I had to go somewhere. I had to get away from him. I could hear his breath behind me, and I turned another corner.

I felt my foot catch on something, and fell to my face. My hands just barely kept my face from getting the brunt of the fall. My heart leapt to my throat, and I felt my stomach turn to mush. He'd catch me now! I frantically tried to stand, grabbing a nearby person and hauling myself to my feet. I could _feel_ him behind me.

I spun the man as hard as I could, and I heard a quick huff and the sound of colliding bodies. I glanced back, but only for a moment. The man had tipped Cal over, and he was getting up, intent on following me again. I looked where I was going now, splitting the crowds as I continued to push any unwilling person aside.

Hands and arms brushed past me, and I threw them aside, my mind conjuring images of Cal making a grab for me. What could I do but run? But I was beginning to fade. I definitely wasn't in shape for running, and I was beginning to feel a sharp stitch in my side. I held a hand there, trying to breath around it, but it kept stabbing me like a sharp knife. I couldn't get away from it.

And it was slowing me down.

My feet were beginning to lag. I couldn't keep this up much longer. A small sound from Cal behind me made me pick up my feet. I would run until I couldn't run anymore. I had to. Like prey trying to outrun the predator. I didn't know how long I'd be able to hold Cal off, but I had to be just a little bit longer. There had to be somewhere around here that I could hide, somewhere where I could lose Cal.

A corner. Two. An alleyway and a house. I could lose him there. I might be able to. Pushing myself faster, I rounded the corner and took another, passing into a dark alleyway. Five doors were lined against the wall, and I burst into one of them, closing it behind me. He couldn't see where I was going. I ran to the top of the house, hiding in a corner. I tried to quiet my breathing, but I didn't have enough air. I curled into a ball and cried. What would I do now? I might have lost Cal for a moment, but he wouldn't give up. I knew he wouldn't.

Quickly, I glanced out of the window in front of me. My heart sank and I cried even harder than before. I was in some part of New York that I hadn't even heard of. I was lost, and on top of that, there was a murderer who wanted me dead.

**Well, thanks for reading!! Sorry it took so long to update. I've been really busy, but my next chapter should be up soon!!**


	12. Chapter 12: The Death Wish

Sorry for the delay with this chapter

**Sorry for the delay with this chapter! I was watching the Wimbledon tennis match before writing this, so it's a little late and I'm sorry! I've also had to do stupid SAT studying and it takes up most of my time since those darn chapters are so long. My Internet isn't working either, but I'm trying! Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy!**

12. The Death Wish

I didn't know how long I sat there. It had seemed like ages ago since I had left the seamstress shop. Did Cal know where I was? My eyes were swollen from tears, and my cheeks were puffy. Had I slept at all these past two days? Time had ceased to exist. How long had it really been? Another day maybe? A few hours? A minute?

Everything around me was dark, almost black. Did someone live here? Would they come and see me sitting here, crouched in a corner, fearing exposure? I could feel my body shaking with exhaustion—or was it fear? I felt the sweat beading on my forehead begin to cool, sending shivers over my skin. I rested my head on my hands, my knees curled up to me. How was I going to get out? I didn't want to be found. No matter how lonely I felt, exposure was not something I wanted. I didn't want Cal to see me. I couldn't let him. He would… He would kill me.

A sudden realization hit me. I wanted to live. Hadn't I just wanted to die because of the pain of Jack's memory? I had. I hadn't wanted to live. But now I did. Or did I? Was it just my body sending my brain the signals of flight, or did I really want to live? I thought I had wanted to die. Did I still? I knew the pain would eventually get me, but how much longer did I have before it did? I didn't want to die by Cal's hand; he would make my death _very_ painful. And my body wasn't in any condition for pain.

I breathed in the stuffy air, some of it suffocating my lungs. I wanted a grasp on something, something to keep me here on the surface. I wanted to be able to somehow see or feel or think of something other than the fact that Cal was still looking for me. Unconsciously, my thoughts turned to one person, and only one. He was a sudden and constant thought that made me realize that I was fighting to live, that I really didn't want to die. I felt my heart shudder with pain.

Jack.

My hands shook as they held my cheeks. _Jack!_ I screamed. _I don't know what to do!_ But no answer came. I drew in a shaky breath, Jack's face flashing like a moving picture in front of my eyes. A sob finally wretched itself from my throat. I missed him so much! Why hadn't I been taken instead? He would have been able to get along without me, but I was completely helpless without him. Especially now. I missed him even more now. My life had never been seriously threatened before—except when the _Titanic_ had begun to sink. But I had had Jack then. He had saved me, but he wasn't here now. I was all alone.

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea and panic through me. Alone. The word grated on my nerves, leaving them raw and frayed. What would happen? Would Cal find me in this dark place? I didn't even know where I was; how would I find a way out of here? I could hear the danger closing in. Was Cal near? Did he sense me here?

A small noise startled me. I looked up, feeling my hair sticking in front of my eyes. I quickly pushed it away, but it wouldn't have mattered. I couldn't see anything anyway. The room was completely void of light, and I could hear my staggered breathing in the stillness of the air. Could he hear me?

A sudden streak of moonlight coursed through the window in front of me. I felt a small comfort in the light; it almost seemed as if Jack's arms were reaching from the heavens to shield me. I felt a small flicker of hope light in my chest. I turned my head at the sound of a low growl, and the flicker was extinguished. My heart completely stopped.

The moonlight reflected off of two glowing eyes. I pushed myself into the wall, trying not to see the animal in front of me. The dog's lips were pulled back, exposing teeth that sparkled like silver flint as the moonlight glinted off of its sharp fangs. The dark fur stood up on its back, its head low and eyes menacing. I felt my heart pound painfully hard in my chest. What was I going to do?

The dog advanced, and my body acted for me. My hands groped around for something to help me, anything to help me. I couldn't feel anything except wood, and I felt a small pain as my hands touched a patch of rough wood. I felt something wet and sticky, and I felt my fear grow as I heard the dog's sniffles. It had caught on to the scent of my blood.

Now completely frantic, I waved my hands behind me, my fingers finally wrapping themselves around something blunt but thick. It felt like a stone, but I didn't bother trying to figure it out. I didn't care what it was, but I knew I had to use it help myself get out of here alive. I slowly stood to my feet, hoping to keep the dog where he was, even though every second equaled one of his steps. I gripped the stone harder. I could feel my blood flowing onto the rock, but I didn't look at it. I didn't even feel it. The fear was more potent than the pain, and the adrenaline shock was pulsing through my veins.

Suddenly, the dog charged. I didn't have time to think, but my reaction wasn't what I expected, nor was it what I wanted. My hands flew to my face, and a piercing scream burst from my throat. I felt a part of the rock grate against my face, but I didn't have time to think about it. I could feel the dog's hot breath on my skin, and its vicious growls as it proceeded to attack me.

I couldn't think, only feel. My right hand lifted itself, smashing the rock into the course fur. A low squeal reached my ears, and I found my strength. I hit the dog with the stone as hard as I could, and I could feel it retreating. I stood, a yell escaping my lips. I was making it! I would be living!

In a last effort I threw the rock at the dog, hearing the small thump of contact, and I raced out of the room. I didn't know where I was going, but I dove through the corridors, finally find a door. I crashed through it, almost falling to the ground in front of me. Nothing looked the same. There were a few lights overhead, but it was still dark. There was darkness all around me, and I had to choose where to go.

I flew down the alley, the stitch in my side returning quickly. I still hadn't eaten anything. I didn't even glance back to see if the dog was following me. I couldn't hear him, but I kept running. I burst into the middle of a wide street, suddenly stopping. The street was completely empty; there was no one there at all. I felt myself relax. No one was here. So, I did something that I had never done before. I broke into an inn, looking around for the cafeteria. I found a small pile of saved food, gorging myself on the small amounts. It wasn't nearly enough to cover for two days of no food, but I didn't care. I had to eat something.

My stomach protested loudly. It had gotten used to the lack of food, and now that I was eating, it didn't know what to do. I wiped my mouth. The food had only been enough to serve a very small meal, but I felt as if I had eaten an entire day's worth of food. How long had I accidentally starved myself?

A door startled me into movement. I slipped out the back, trying to be silent. I had never stolen anything, least of all food, but my desperation had hit a high. I ran from the hotel, trying to get as far away from it as possible. I didn't want to be caught. I was a third class person now.

I wandered through the large street, completely void of feeling and sense of direction. Where was I? This street looked completely unfamiliar, I didn't know anything else but the area that was around the graveyard, work, and my apartment. I didn't bother to go elsewhere. I had never needed to. I had been so focused on the pain of Jack's memory to go elsewhere.

I hadn't wanted to wander far, either. It was hard enough living in the small section of town that I did, and yet it was almost like a safety net. As long as I was in those boundaries with Jack's memory near me, I was safe. But I felt far from safe now. I felt exposed in this wide street. How far had I run away from Cal?

A small tint of red caught my eyes, and I looked to my left. The sun was beginning to come up. I felt my eyes sting. I hadn't slept in three days now. Three days. I had just had a meal, but my stomach was still attempting to protest, even though it was still processing the food.

As suddenly as the sunrise had caught my eye, I could feel the danger behind me, pressing against my nerves like a binding cord. I turned, attempting to duck, but I wasn't fast enough. Something hard and metal hit my scalp, and there was utter blackness.

--

There was pain. Horrible pain that seared my head like a hot iron. I couldn't move my limbs. They were numb, stiff, and very sore. Even though I didn't have the strength to even lift my eyelids, I could tell that it was dark. Where was I? Had the whole events of last night been a dream? I felt as if I had been running for hours, and in a sense, I had been. Maybe that was why I was so sore. I didn't run at all, and now that I had suddenly started, and had been running for a very long time, maybe that _was_ why I was so sore. But it didn't explain why I couldn't move my arms.

Finally, with all the strength I could muster, I peeled my eyelids back, only to shut them quickly. There was a little light, and it shot through my head like fire. I gritted my teeth; how much longer would this pain be here? My eyes hadn't been able to see much of my surroundings. Slowly, I squinted them open. Light filtered through the small slit of my eyes, and I grunted. The light was blinding me, but I forced my eyes to adjust. I was finally able to open them all the way, but the light still hurt.

I nervously took in the room around me. Was this… my room? Had I imagined this whole entire night? Or was it just a dream? I tried to see the things in the room, but my eyes weren't working right. Everything was so blurry. Was that a table or a bed? A door or just a piece of random wood? I closed my eyes and tried to rub them, only to find that my hands were connected. My eyes snapped up, tried to focus for an annoyingly long time, then finally saw the hands I knew were in front of me. They were… bound.

My arms were tied together.

I tried to separate them, and the sudden adrenaline combined with movement seemed to clear my eyesight. But the ropes wouldn't loosen. They bound my wrists together, and the more I pulled, the more the rope burned my wrists raw. I finally gave up, a wretched sob escaping my lips as I slammed my head against the wall behind me. How had I gotten into this mess? All I knew was that I had to get out of it. But how? I couldn't do anything with my hands tied.

I attempted to move my feet, but… they wouldn't move either. I tried to bend down to see if my feet were tied as well, but a streak of pain shot through my torso. How many sore muscles did I have? I forced my muscles to work, straining my neck to see over my knees. I moaned and leaned back on the wall. My feet were tied as well. I wouldn't be able to move. I felt the tears prick my eyes.

Why on earth did Cal have to find me? Why was he so obsessed with this vendetta of his? I had rejected him, but there were plenty of other women out there who would be glad to get married to him, no matter how hot his temper. I didn't want any part of it. I was perfectly happy to be poor, especially if it meant escape from Cal.

Fear started to seep in as I took in my surroundings. Where exactly was I? I knew I wasn't anywhere near where I had been living before, but still, the thought that maybe I was kept me from losing my mind. But Cal wouldn't be so foolish. He would not leave a trace that could lead someone to where I was. Where was Jack when I needed him? He could've found me; I always knew he was too smart for Cal. Jack had saved me from Cal, hadn't he?

But he wasn't here now. Jack couldn't save me again. He had saved me three times already; why couldn't he still save me now? I had come to depend on him, and even still, in this year without him, I still depended on him. Didn't I depend on his memory to send me pain, to remind of the love I had once had? I depended on him, more than I should, and it was masochistic, but I didn't care. I needed the pain to remind myself of why I was living, and that I really _was_ alive.

My eyes flickered to the room in front of me. I took this time to reflect where I was, since I was apparently being undisturbed. It made me feel better, but I felt a shiver crawl up my skin. This room almost looked like a prison to keep me in, something to keep me from escaping. I felt a small twinge of pain. With my wrists and ankles bound, I wasn't going to be going anyplace anytime soon.

There seemed to be only one light bulb that shed light to the room that was my prison, and it cast an eerie yellowish glow. The walls looked to be made out of some sort of wood that had been mixed with metal. A long, round bag rested in the corner opposite of me. What I had thought could've been a bed was indeed a table. I gasped as a few of the items on top of it glinted in the small amount of light, and I shivered to think of what they might be.

There were various tools in this room, almost as if it was a workplace. The dim light cast long, dark shadows across the room, and I found myself gazing at them, imagining Jack's face coming out of them to save the day. As long as I was in danger, as long as I knew that I would be dying soon, I could let myself fantasize that he was alive, and that he would save me, just as he had on _Titanic_.

I felt something drop to the ground, and I immediately cowered away from it. A small puddle seemed to grow, and I glanced up at the ceiling. A few feet from where I lay, a large gash slit the ceiling. I heard the patter of the rain as if grew harder. The small speck of water that had fallen grew into a puddle, and I leaned back against the wall. I had to be sitting on dirt.

I felt so sore; everything ached. How much longer would I have to be here? I didn't want to be here forever. And I knew I wouldn't be. I would be leaving this world soon, and there I would meet Jack. I would get to see him again, and I would be with him forever. Nothing would ever separate us again.

I gave a small grunt of disgust. Was I accepting the fact that Cal was going to kill me? Was that what I wanted? I shook my head, but the movement made me groan. I had to stop moving. I sighed, that movement hurting to, but I tried to think of Jack's promise. I couldn't keep his promise if I were dead.

Could I promise him that I would live? I imagined shaking my head. I couldn't promise anything at this moment. For the time being, I was completely under Cal's full power, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't promise Jack that I would live, because it wasn't under my control. I gritted my teeth. It _should_ be under my control. Even if I had wanted to kill myself just hours earlier…

--

I felt a small prick in my neck, and I jumped. I looked around me, but nothing had changed. Had I fallen asleep? I looked at the ceiling. The night seemed to be clear and beautiful, and I could barely see a small part of the moon. The rain must have lulled me to sleep. I was tired enough, and I needed it. I wasn't as sore, but now other muscles started to hurt. This couldn't be a very comfortable position to sleep in.

I moved my hands to rub my neck, suddenly remembering that they were tied when I felt the rope rub against my wrists. On closer examination of them, I was astonished at how badly I had fought the rope. My wrists were very raw, and now that I was awake, anything and everything that could hurt _was_ hurting.

I slumped against the wall, still feeling exhausted. I really had to take better care of myself. How had I even lived through that year after Jack's death? I had been so much stronger then. I had grown numb to all but the sharpest of pains, and now look at me. I was locked in a shed, feeling a separate, excruciating pain in my chest at the thought of life without Jack. Everything I had felt and thought that first year flitted through my head, and the pain was much worse than I remembered. But I had been able to cope with that pain before.

As unfair as it was, I cursed John for this pain. Hadn't he been the one to lessen it? He had readjusted the amount of pain my body could take, and now I was exactly like I had been in the beginning. I couldn't stand the pain that was ripping my chest open. I could feel the wound, shining and new, pulsing with pain. My heart couldn't take much more of this. But I had to live through it.

Unless…

What if I took my own life before Cal could? I would at least attempt to make my death quick, with as little pain as possible. Cal on the other hand… I wouldn't doubt if he wanted to make this as horrifying as he could. First, he would—I winced as I thought the word—rape me for his own foolish pleasures, then he would proceed to kill me. I knew it wouldn't be quick. It would be a prolonged death, and I didn't want that. Not at all.

I tried to look around me. Yes, I would do that. I would take my life first, before Cal could even touch me. My body, and everything in me, belonged to one person. I would die before I let Cal touch me as Jack had. I didn't belong to Cal, and he didn't own me; Jack was the one who owned me, and even then, it had been different. Jack would never have said that he owned me. He had known me better than that. He had loved me, and had known that I had loved him, and that was all he needed. He would never have claimed ownership.

Tears brimmed in my eyes as I thought about the past tense of my thoughts. Jack _had_ loved me… He _had_ known me… He _had_ protected me… I did my best to cover my face with my hands. I had been so much stronger before. I had been able to take this much pain. Or… Or was there the possibility that I hadn't grown numb to the pain? It had gotten worse, much worse. I suddenly realized that had to be the answer. It fit. I hadn't been going numb; John had just helped me cope a little bit better. On the ferry, I hadn't gotten numb to the pain. The pain had ripped back at me, harsher and more powerful than it had before.

Everything would have happened like I had thought it would. If Cal hadn't of been here, the pain would've killed me. It had been getting worse, and the wildness of it would have left me wounded and broken, beyond repair. I would have died, if Cal hadn't been the one to push me into the decision of my own suicide first.

I tried to stand, bracing my back against the wall to help me. I managed for a small second, trying to steady myself for an eternally long three seconds. Again, I surveyed the room around me. The glinting objects on the table were indeed something that I didn't want to see. But I could tell one of them was sharp. That would be my weapon, my means of escape.

I was hesitant to leave the wall. I felt as if I was leaving my last harbor of safety, and I was going out into the world unguarded, weak, and targeted. Attempting to get closer was the hard part. I couldn't very well hop; my legs began to protest as soon as I even thought about using them.

Thankfully, I was saved from a decision for the moment, but I wasn't very thankful for long. I quickly thrust myself to the ground back into my sitting position, and everything in me screamed for mercy. I groaned as multiple pains stabbed every muscle in my body, but no pain was as harsh and stabbing as the pain in my chest. And strangely enough, it was a stab of joy. I would be with Jack soon.

Cal stepped into the shed, his hair ruffled, his shirt untucked. An immediate wave of fear crashed through my bloodstream. He never looked like this. He had always had to have his image held up, and it looked like now he didn't care. What would I do? The first part of my torture had come; his eyes gave him away, a strange lust and fire glinting them into molten steel. His gaze sent icy shivers rippling up my spine, almost as if I was back in the water of the Atlantic.

I pressed myself against the wall. I didn't want him to do this. This was completely different than my night with Jack. I looked at him, and I could feel the fear shining through my eyes. What would he do when he saw that? Would he hurt me more? I didn't want physical pain, too. The emotional pain was enough to leave me sore and hurting. How much more damage could he do?

He walked over to me, and I brought my knees to my chest. I would fight as hard as I could before I would let him touch me. I belonged to someone else. I wasn't Cal's fiancée anymore. I was my own person, living free. I felt a sudden hitch in my breathing. I wasn't free. Jack's memory bound me to him like chains, but I didn't mind them after all. The memory of Jack was the only thing keeping me going, even if the pain was crippling me.

Cal kneeled in front of me, and I cursed my breath for getting out of control. But I was too focused on the fear and the pain of what would come next. Never had I feared Cal so much in all my life; I hadn't feared anybody this much. Ever. The sensation was new and doubly frightening.

I couldn't move very far, but Cal quickly untied the rope that bound my legs. Fear shot through my heart like a dagger as Cal leaned over me. I cowered into the wall. I didn't know what to do. Cal trailed his hand down my bare arm, and I shivered under his touch. His hands touched my face, traced over my lips. Tears coursed down my cheeks. Everything in my body was screaming in fear and rage.

"Please," I whispered through my tears.

A wry smile touched Cal's lips before he pressed them to mine. Sobs racked my chest, but Cal pressed his lips against mine harder, his tongue splitting them apart as I sobbed. Suddenly, everything in me snapped to attention. How dare he kiss me like this! As hard as I could, I jerked my knee up into his groin. His lips broke away from mine as he gasped in pain, and I shoved my hands into his chest, pushing him off of me.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears. I had to run. I forced myself onto my feet, willing my sore legs to move as Cal moaned on the ground. I could see the door; it was in front of me. Maybe I could get out.

Something grabbed my ankle, and I crashed to the ground with a startled cry. I rolled over and shoved my heel into Cal's shoulder, but I felt something sharp numb the area around my foot. I screamed as hot, white pain shot up through my leg, crippling any attempt of escape I had previously had.

"Well, Rose," Cal said breathlessly, his chest rising and falling. His eyes glinted like silver steel, and I felt the same fear. "I see you will not cooperate." He held up something else, something else that shone and glistened in the dim light. My breathing hitched as my mind quickly named the object that I couldn't think. Knife.

"I would have made this painless, but you had to go and make this difficult. At least your mother didn't have to get sliced to pieces." His eyes roved to a corner opposite of where I had been sitting. A gasp of horror escaped my dry throat.

"Mother," I whispered.

Cal smirked. I started to sit up, to make my way over to her, but Cal backhanded my face, sending me sprawling over the dirt. He leaned in close to me, and I tried to keep my face away from him. He wasn't drunk, unfortunately, but that just made me realize how crazy he really was. He was _consciously_ killing me, and feeling no remorse, even though he had claimed to love me.

The knife flicked to the top of my throat, and a small whimper scraped my vocal cords. Now would come the torture and the pain. Now he would cut me to pieces, and I knew that I wouldn't be unconscious for that. He would try to keep me awake for as long as possible. That was how sick he had become.

"Any last wishes, Rose? Any at all before I kill you?"

"A death wish?" I asked, completely surprised, but my eyes were shut tight. He couldn't see the flicker of hope that had lighted inside of me.

"That's right," he growled menacingly.

I nodded, but I was thinking fast. Suddenly, I didn't have to think at all. There was only one thing I wanted to see before I died. "You can't fulfill it," I whispered, and immediately regretted those words. He would get mad, and that would be the end! I had this one chance to stall Cal, to get him away from me so I could kill myself before he could, and I had blown it.

"What is it?" Cal asked, surprising me again. His voice suddenly became soft. "I can give you everything, you know. You don't have to live like a poor person. I can still give you everything if you just come with me and marry me."

In the back of my mind, I realized that Cal was trying to make a compromise; he didn't exactly want to kill me. But my body reacted faster than my mind. It cringed, the revulsion of being Cal's wife burning deep in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I had to get Cal very angry with me, so angry that he would kill me on the spot, not even thinking about giving me a slow, painful death. There was one sentence that would make it happen, and it burned my throat as I thought it. How I really did wish that statement were true.

"I want to see Jack," I whispered, then braced myself for the sudden pain, for the anger and rage that would rip my body apart. But it never came. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and Cal's face wasn't angry, it looked like he was thinking. Suddenly, a wicked smile brushed his lips apart.

"I can get you that."

The simple statement caused me to fall apart. How could he get me Jack? Jack was dead! Did he have a picture, or something else that I could see, and then he would be mad. Nevertheless, I had stalled Cal. I could kill myself now, with as little pain as I could manage.

A sudden growl rumbled from Cal's throat, and he shoved me against the wall where I had been seated before. With something hard and blunt, he swung his hand towards my head. I didn't have any time to react. Everything went black.

**Well, hope you guys liked it! I guess you have the wonderful bands of Within Temptation, Nightwish, and Plumb to thank for this chapter. Their music was inspirational, and helped me to write this chapter quicker than I thought. Anyway, please review! I love to hear you comments!**

**Okay, I was going to shut up, but I just remembered that I'm going to be gone in Reno for a week. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get on and update, but I'm going to be pretty busy, so I'll see if I can update within two days or so after I post this!! Thanks again for all your reviews and comments!**


	13. Chapter 13: Breakdown

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**Hey guys! I am so sorry about the wait! I'm in Reno, NV for the week and don't have my computer, so everything I'm doing is handwritten. I was able to post this chapter by pure chance, so it'll be a while before you guys get the next chapter! I'm really sorry! I have this one short chance on my sister's computer, so I'm taking it! I'll try to update the next chapter as soon as I can!!**

13. Breakdown

A scorching pain woke me up. It was my head again. It was a headache worse than the one that I had had before; now my head was throbbing as if a drum were beating inside my head. I groaned as I moved my arms and legs from my current position. Everything hurt worse than it had yesterday. Or had it even been a day? I couldn't tell what time it was, or how long I had been trapped here. I didn't want to be here anymore, that I knew for sure. If I was going to do something, it had to be now.

But for some reason, I couldn't move. I felt safe against this wall; it was somehow a strange comfort. Even though I was sore and immobile, it held me up. It was an anchor, my stronghold in this prison of fear. That really was all this room was: a place for me to fear, to bring out my fear. A place that represented the epitome of evil, and my eventual demise. And still, I felt safe here, like my fear was slowly ebbing away. Almost like the wall was my one and only anchor: Jack.

I pressed my lips together. I had to start moving. I tried to move my legs, and let out a shaky breath. My ankles weren't bound; I would be able to move to the table so I could end my life my own way. I did not want Cal to be the one to kill me. If anyone had a choice of who would kill me, it would be me. And I did not want to see the pleasure on Cal's face as my life ended. I wouldn't be able to see it, but I could imagine his face when I took that pleasure away. He would be so angry. But he wouldn't be able to do anything to me. I'd already be dead.

Imagining Cal's angered face gave me strength. But as soon as I stood, I stopped. What would Jack think? Me taking my life like this? I _had_ made a promise to him… But that had to be out of the window now. It was either to kill myself or let Cal kill me. I didn't want the latter. I took a step away from the wall, a sharp pain shooting up my leg. I had forgotten about the cut on my foot. It wasn't too bad, but enough that it was still bleeding a bit and hurt almost as bad as everything else.

I took another step. Ignoring the pain in my leg. But something else tugged at my heart, my very soul—a strange conflict that had me fighting with myself. Did I really want to kill myself? Of course I did. But… what about Jack? I gritted my teeth. He wasn't here. He wouldn't… He wouldn't see me… He couldn't. Another feeling tugged. Would he really not see me do that? But how…? He was dead. He couldn't see me down here.

_What if he's not dead?_

I gasped as I thought the question. He had to be. He would've found me if he had been alive. But… The thought of Jack being alive tore at my insides. The pain brought me to my knees. This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid: this pain that was worse than anything I had ever felt. I had tried so hard to keep this thought from entering my mind. Why did it have to be now?

The thought of killing myself and Jack being alive created a conflict so powerful that I didn't know what to think. If I killed myself, then Jack would never be able to find me. If he were alive that is. But I had seen him die! He had died right in front of my eyes! I winced at the pain as another thought was thrust into my mind.

_Did you _actually_ see him in the hospital? They wouldn't let you in, remember?_

Tears of uncertainty streamed down my face. I hadn't been allowed into the hospital aboard the _Carpathia_. I was a healthy survivor, and only people in critical condition were in the hospital. It was too crowded otherwise. I had made sure Jack had gotten in the hospital. I had thought he had died; I hadn't wanted to go into the hospital anyway. I pain wretched and tore at my heart. What if he really were alive?

That thought made me feel as if I had two bodies: one that knew Jack was dead, and the one that desperately wished he was alive. But why was I having this sudden conflict? Why did I suddenly think with all my heart that Jack really _was_ alive? I had never believed it before. Why now?

I bit my lip, a little of the pain subsiding. My death wish. That was all this feeling was. I was only wishing that Jack were alive and that I would see him. But it was all my imagination. It was my one and only wish before I died. His face was all I wanted to see, all I wanted to touch, and everything I ever wanted. But I wouldn't get him. He was gone, and that was all there was to it.

I tried to stand; doing so without the wall was difficult, and I had forgotten about my hand as well. It had to have gotten cut even more on the rock that I had defended myself against the dog with. My hands instinctively rose to my face, and I winced at the slicing pain in my right cheek. The rock must have grated against my skin when I had shied away.

When I had finally stood, I took another step, and that feeling rose inside of me once again, almost stronger than before. I reached out to the table, but the other part of me was holding me back. I gritted my teeth and grunted as I pushed my leg forward. With each step, the feeling grew stronger, threatening to take over. I wouldn't give in to it! It was my imagination that was wishing for him to be alive!

I reached out to the table, looking at all the sharp instruments. Which one would I choose? I blocked out the urgent feeling of self-preservation. The only thought that kept me going now was the fact that Cal wouldn't kill me. I fought the urge to turn away and cower against the wall. I had to do this. I had to! I wouldn't let Cal touch me! I could feel the tears staining my cheeks as I fought the feeling to live.

Why did I have to be faced with this now? Why did I have the thought of preserving my life now when I had no use for it? Especially when I had a murderer intent on seeing me killed? This was not the time for these thoughts. I had to grab one of them. I had to! The strange desperation for my own demise confused me, but I pushed it aside, just as I had everything else. This was all that mattered.

With a grunt I touched the table. This was taking out more of my energy than I thought possible. I fought to close my fingers around the sharp object. Inwardly, I winced at having to use such a vicious thing. My entire being hated violence and murder, but this was the one exception. This was something I had to do, or I would be in endless pain before I left this place.

A sob racked my body as I finally forced my fingers to close around the tool. I forced my hand up towards my chest, where I would die quickly. The other side of me fought even harder now, making it almost impossible for me to think clearly. My head was filled with thoughts that were hazy and confused, but I tried to force the fog away. My other body didn't understand! I _had_ to do this!

I felt the sharp point against my skin. I shivered at the thought of actually plunging it through myself, and the sobs came harder. Why did my life have to be full of such hard decisions? Why did I even have to do this? I could feel my hands take on a will of their own as they began to press against my ribcage as the battle raged within me. I didn't want to die. I really didn't. But I had to. I didn't want to die by Cal's hand. I…

_I love you Jack!_ My entire body screamed the statement. I felt the truth of it everywhere inside of me, and I felt myself break in two. I loved him so much! _I love you, Jack! I love you! I love you! I love you!_

Somehow, my arms found the strength to plunge to the knife into my chest. But I never quite got there. Just as I was about to, a cry so heartbreaking pierced the silence, causing me to jump. The object slipped, and I felt it grate against my left arm. I screamed in pain as a hand flung the object from my hand. Black dots swirled in front of my eyes; I couldn't see anything, just feel. I couldn't tell if the hands were trying to hurt me, but I could tell that the voice was angry. I knew it was Cal. I hadn't done it fast enough! I hadn't even connected with the target!

But just as soon as the voice sounded angry, it broke down into sobs, and the arms were soft, cradling me in an embrace that I hadn't felt for so long. I missed that embrace. It felt… familiar. I had wanted to feel these arms… Were they…? No, I was imagining. He wasn't here. I would have to open my eyes and accept the truth. My death wish was impossible, but I had wished so hard that I thought it was true.

I slowly opened my eyes, but they widened more quickly than I wanted. More dots danced in front of my vision, but that wasn't what stunned me. The face in front of me was more precious than gold or silver or all the possessions in the world. Tears were streaming from those beautiful blue eyes, the ones that held the knowledge of the world and yet all the kindness a being could possess. Blond hair fell in front of those pained eyes, and I knew all the lines on that face. I wanted to wipe the pain away.

My hand moved up to his face. I knew my hand was bloody, and I smeared his flawless face, but he gripped my hand, and I winced in pain. Suddenly, my mind registered what I was seeing. _Jack_. My hand flew off of his face to cover mine, and I started screaming. I writhed in those arms, knowing they weren't real. I was only imagining everything!

"No! No!" I screamed. I had lost it. I had dreamed and wished so hard, that I had finally snapped. "No! You're not here! You're dead! You're _dead_!" The tears didn't stop as I screamed that over and over again. My cries were all that filled my ears. I could barely hear the words that my imagination was conjuring up. I didn't want to hear it! I wouldn't be able to recover from this.

"No, no, no!" I knew I was beginning to fade. I couldn't take much more of this. My nerves were completely destroyed, and I couldn't even think. This couldn't be happening. None of it. I was loosing my mind. I would have to die now. I wouldn't be able to live through this anymore. The thought that I might have seen him again ripped at my heart like a hot knife. That thought was the one thing that would have spelled my internal death, and now it had done its job. I was completely useless now. I wouldn't be alive anymore. I would be dead.

Lights were beginning to fade. More and more I could hear the imaginary voice as my screaming started to subside. And the more I heard of the voice, the more I wanted to listen to it. I would die anyway. It was heaven just to listen to each note, each voiced word that it said.

And it was… crying. I had never heard it cry before. It was… heart retching.

"Rose," it sobbed. I opened my lips to say something in return, but everything was fading… I couldn't think… I was… gone. The thought almost made me happy. I wouldn't be here to experience a lifeless world. I would be with Jack. It was where I belonged now, and where I always would belong…

--

Jack waited at the corner. Cal still hadn't come. It had been ten minutes already—past that even. Jack put his hands in his pockets. He had put on his other, more comfortable clothes. He didn't care if Cal didn't like it. He wore it for Rose. Rose wouldn't recognize him in first class clothes.

Rose. What would she do when she saw him? Had she… moved on? Jack's heart sank. Of course, if she had… moved on… he would disappear. He would understand that he had been gone for too long to expect her to still love him. That didn't mean that he himself would move on. Rose the only woman for him. He knew that Rose was very beautiful—it had been her beauty that had attracted him in the first place—and that she no doubt would attract men.

And then, there was always the possibility that Cal was lying. Cal could or could not be telling the truth. Should he believe Cal? So far, Cal hadn't been lying. He'd given Jack Rose's hairclip, signifying that Rose was alive. How else had the clip landed in New York? Jack pressed his fingers to his temple. All this was too confusing. He didn't know what to believe.

A flash of movement caught jack's eye. It was Cal. He looked… different. Finally, after a quick assessment, Jack figured out what it was. Cal was very disorganized. He wasn't his usual calm, assertive self. His hair was messier than Jack had ever seen it, and his shirt was untucked and smudged with dirt. Jack was stunned. Cal was the type of guy that would never allow himself to look so untidy.

Jack's eyes narrowed, He didn't trust Cal. Some instinct, something inside of him told Jack not to. Cal was up to no good, and Jack didn't like it. But his mind was battling his heart. His heart ached to see Rose. He suddenly realized that deep down he did trust Cal. He was the key that would set free the misery that plagued Jack's heart. He didn't have to think twice, really. As long as Rose was safe, he would sacrifice his own life.

Cal nodded at Jack. "If you would like to come and see her, I can lead you. She wants to see you."

Jack swallowed, His insides were screaming at him to accept, but his mind was trying to think clearly. It wasn't easy to do. The mere thought of Rose only minutes away was almost too much to handle.

"What are my guarantees?" Jack challenged, intellect barely winning over emotion. Jack wanted to make sure that Rose was safe. He would die to protect her. Only she mattered.

A sudden, wicked gleam lighted Cal's eyes. "You don't. You have to trust me on this. I always win, Jack. I'll let you see her, but for that you must do something for me in return." Cal smiled smugly.

Jack raised his eyebrows. Now was the moment of truth.

Cal seemed to know that Jack was still listening, for he smiled in victory. "You must convince her to marry me. If not, then you can't see her."

Jack's answer came almost too quickly. "I can't do that."

Cal's face was suddenly dangerous, his voice low and foreboding. "Why's that?"

"She wouldn't believe me," Jack said quietly, not sure why he felt so sad about it. Maybe it was because Rose had always believed and trusted him. But this was something different. She wouldn't believe him, but he wasn't telling the truth. She would have believed a lie. She knew Jack too well to tell if he was lying.

The look on Cal's face didn't change. "Then make her believe you! She always believed you anyway!"

"She wouldn't believe the lie." The words hadn't meant to slip, but Jack said them before he could think. His eyes flicked to Cal's face, which was beyond words. Jack only knew that his statement had made Cal furious.

"A lie?"

"Well…" Jack tried to cover it up.

"I am perfect for her! She should love me! I have money, class, luxury—everything any sane woman would want. What do you have that I don't?" Cal shouted, his lips pulling down in a pout.

But his question went unanswered. Jack had wondered that very same thing ever since Rose had gone back to him on the bow of the _Titanic_. What _did_ he have that had caused Rose to love him? He didn't have any of those things that made Cal what he was. What had Rose said?

"_Why can't I be like you, Jack? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it?… It was everything, really… And the inertia of my life plunging ahead and me, powerless to stop it… All the while I feel as if I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up!"_

Freedom. It had been the one thing that Rose had wanted. She had felt so trapped by her relationships, her class, even her own mother. Freedom and love had been the things she had wished for most. She had just wanted to love someone and have them love her back. Jack felt a small smile on his lips. He had been the one that she had chosen. He had loved Rose since the moment he had seen her; she had chosen to love him back.

"I grow tired of waiting, Dawson. What will it be?"

Cal's words brought Jack out of his thoughts. What _would_ his answer be? Cal didn't know what an amazing woman Rose was. Or maybe he did. She was headstrong and independent, but maybe that was what Cal wanted: a challenging woman that he felt the need to conquer and dominate. Jack shuddered at the thought. Rose would never be dominated.

And yet, Jack felt that that was the only way he would be able to see Rose. She was… his life. And he could almost feel her slipping through his fingers. But would he be happy knowing she was miserable with Cal, and that he was the cause of her unhappiness? Jack inwardly shook his head. Of course he wouldn't be happy. And neither would she.

"I'll go," Jack said simply.

Cal smiled victoriously. Jack hated the thought of Cal winning, but at this moment he had to put away his pride. He had to do if for Rose. Only she mattered.

The walk was longer than jack though it would be. Cal led him through a part of New York that Jack had never seen. He had seen many big cities, but this one had to be biggest. One year. Usually he would have traveled at least five times; it was the longest time he had ever stayed in one place.

It was strange. Jack could _feel_ that he was nearing Rose. Hack felt chills tingle up his pine. He didn't like this feeling. It was as if he could feel the despair, hopelessness, and death surrounding the place. A sudden pain ripped at Jack's heart. A decision had been made. How he knew that, he wasn't sure, but he knew it was fatal. Words poured out of his mouth, first in a whisper, then in a shout as he neared a door in front of him.

"No, Rose, no! Don't do it! No, Rose, don't! Rose, NO!"

Jack didn't even take in his surroundings. His heart leapt to his throat at the sight before him. There was Rose, her red hair falling over her shoulders, but something sharp and dangerous glinted in her hands. Jack heard his shouts as he rushed to her, her hands trying to plunge the object into her heart but missing. Jack grabbed the instrument and flung it across the room. He wrapped his arms around Rose. Blood was seeping through his jacket as he looked at her cut shoulder. Cal swore angrily, but Jack didn't hear any of it.

"Rose?" he cried, his stomach heaving at the sight of her. Her hair wasn't gleaming; her eyes were dull and blank; her cheeks were strangely pale. Tears poured down his cheeks as a spark of life flickered behind her glassy blue eyes. She looked so alive in that instant. Her hand rose to his cheek, and he felt sickened that it was bloody. He grasped onto it, not wanting to let her go. He hadn't seen her for so long. It felt as if all life and happiness had returned to him.

But nothing could have prepared him for her reaction. She jerked her hand away, and started screaming and struggling. "No! No!" she cried, her hands flying to her face. "No! You're not here! You're dead! You're _dead_!"

Jack sobbed. She had believed him dead. Just as he had believed that she had been dead. Her words tore at him. It almost sounded as if she _wanted_ him dead. But that couldn't be the case. It just couldn't be.

Had she indeed moved on? The thought now made Jack sick. He didn't want her to have moved on. He wanted her—needed her. But the cold truth left his throat dry. He knew he would have to step aside if she had moved on. He wouldn't have any other choice.

"Rose, Rose, Rose…" he muttered constantly. "I love you. I love you so much, Rose. I've missed you so much. I love you, Rose. I love you; I love you… Rose…"

Slowly, her screaming and struggling subsided. Her tightly shut eyes relaxed, as did her face and body. He was growing cold in Jack's arms, and suddenly, all movement stopped. Jack gasped. Was she… dead? She couldn't be. None of her injuries looked fatal. Not even the one on her shoulder, even though it hadn't stopped bleeding. Jack quickly tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around her wound.

How long had she been out? Five minutes? Jack held her tightly in his arms, rocking her back and forth. She was here in his arms—actually here. But where was here? Jack's eyes quickly scanned the room. What exactly was this place? Jack didn't have time to think about it. Rose was waking up.

--

Something wasn't right. I wasn't dead. I should be. I had killed myself, hadn't I? Smell, touch, hearing—it was all coming back. But it shouldn't be. I should be dead, free of the creeping and nagging pain of my misery. I had thought that I had seen Jack. Had I really? Wasn't that what I had been trying to tell myself?

I opened my eyes slowly. I didn't know what I would see. I gasped as I was suddenly looking into intent blue eyes. The gaze sent a flush of color through my cheeks and a pulse of adrenaline through my veins. My heart stuttered to life; it hadn't beat like this in over a year.

"Jack?" I whispered.

He nodded, a smile caressing his lips, and I reached up to touch his face. He took my hand gently and placed it on his face for me. He felt so real. He smelled the exact same, too. My eyes could deceive me, but I knew my other senses could not. He was here. He was really here. A smile parted my lips—a true smile that touched every part of me. My one true love was here, saving me from the death I had brought upon myself. Jack's arms were around me, and I felt completely safe and free. This was where I belonged, and he wouldn't let anything hurt me—I knew he wouldn't.

The sudden knowledge of it all brought tears to my eyes. "Oh, Jack!" I cried, lifting myself to wrap my arms around his strong shoulders. Every muscle hurt and ached, but I didn't pay attention. I was safe. Jack was here; I _couldn't_ feel anymore pain.

I leaned back to press my lips against his. "I love you," I whispered in between kisses. I could feel him smile.

"I love you, too, Rose."

"Enough."

The angry word caused both of us to turn. It was only then that I remembered Cal. What would he do? He didn't look happy at all, and yet, underneath all the anger laid a smile of treachery and victory. I clutched jack closer to me, afraid of Cal. Jack held me tighter.

"Well Dawson. I appreciate your cooperation. Now I can fulfill what should have been on year ago." Cal suddenly became furious, pointing viciously at Jack. "You should have died! And now you will, be very certain of that. I will see to it that you will never see the light of day again. Rose will get to watch you die a slow and painful death. Then she will be mine. All. Mine."

"No," I gasped. I couldn't believe it. I looked at Jack, my eyes roving his. What would I do? I had lost Jack once; I couldn't lose him again! I couldn't! I wouldn't live through it! It would kill me more than anything else.

"No!" I shouted as Cal suddenly swung at Jack, knocking him out. "Jack?" I whispered. I looked at Cal, my face accusatory but pleading. "What have you done?"

**Thanks for reading, and I **_**promise**_** to have the fourteenth chapter up ASAP!!**


	14. Chapter 14: The Talk

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**Hey readers! I am SO sorry for the long wait! Life has pretty much been getting in the way of the progress of this story! I really am sorry for the really long wait. I've had colleges to look up because the one I was going to go to closed the program I wanted to do, so I've been busy with that, and I've got lots of other things going on, so please forgive me! Enjoy the chapter!!**

14. The Talk

Dreams were so much like reality, that I couldn't tell the difference. For me, at least. I had imagined this moment so many times that I had dreamed it a reality, but now, I couldn't tell if this was real, or if it was a nightmare. Nightmare was the more appropriate word. It hadn't been a mere dream that I had envisioned Jack alive and standing in front of me. It had been a nightmare, because it had been the one thing that I would have wished for the most.

And it had to be a dream. All of it. The chase, the dog, the shed, Cal and his murderous intentions, and Jack. He couldn't be alive. And yet here he was, his head cradled in my lap as I waited for him to wake. Everything had to be my new reality. It felt _right_. I felt as if everything was in order now, and somehow, Jack and I would be free soon. We would escape Cal, and live together…

My fingers stroked through Jack's dirty blond hair. It was matted with a little bit of blood from where Cal had struck him, and my fingers cautiously avoided that spot. It'd hurt Jack if I touched it. His soft breath blew against my arm, and I smiled shakily. How long I had waited to hear him breathe! His voice! I could still hear every word of his echoing inside the walls of my head. The words were more recent, his voice more instilled in my mind. Now that I had heard his voice, every memory of him came alive with new color, as if his voice had been restored. The smile left my lips. Would he wake?

I couldn't help but worry that the wound was fatal. After all this time, after all he had survived, and one blow to the head and he was done for. My body cringed away fiercely at the thought of what pain it would bring. For ten minutes—or even hours maybe—I had been pain-free, I had been completely and utterly happy.

Again, my body shied away from the now-foreign pain that attacked me at the thought of having to watch Jack die again. I wouldn't be able to bear it; not this time, not again. I would cease to live. I would probably have to kill myself just as I had tried to do before Jack had come in to save me.

I looked down at Jack. His face had a calm and peaceful look; nothing like the pain I had seen in his eyes before Cal had knocked him out. I loved this face more than any I had ever seen before. This face mirrored my own want of freedom, my life. Jack was my life. I couldn't live without him. Especially now that I had had him back, even if it was only for a little while. I was happy to have even the smallest moment with him. It was all I wanted, and somehow, Cal had known where to find Jack.

A sudden thought flew into my mind. What if Cal had been planning this all along? What if he had known about Jack and I, both thinking that the other was dead? Had he already planned to bring us together with the expectation of bringing us up, then to see us breakdown as one of us was killed? I froze at the thought. But I shouldn't have been surprised. Cal was crafty and cruel, and no matter what, he would make sure that he had his way. I knew that Cal only wanted me, to see me crushed at the sight of Jack dead, but if he did do that, he would be committing a far greater crime. Cal had vowed that no one but him would have me, but he hadn't figured me into the equation. I would not let myself be subject to him.

I marveled at this new strength that had taken over me. Already I felt stronger, healthier, _whole_ again. I hadn't felt so alive in so long. I hadn't felt complete, either. John Calvert had helped to ease the pain a little, maybe even take some of it away, but he could never replace Jack. No one could. He was in a secret place in my heart, and only Jack could unlock the doors.

I cradled Jack's head in my arms. He was so precious. I couldn't convey the depths of how much I loved him. I had never felt this way about anyone before, nor did I want to feel like this towards anyone else. These feelings of mine belonged to Jack, and Jack alone. He was the only person that deserved them.

My heart pounded as I felt him stir. Soon, I would come face to face with him. What would I say?

He moaned as he tried to sit up. His hands reached towards his head, but I saw that they were tied. His feet remained free, however. Any moment now, he would lose his balance and get hurt even worse. I had to say something.

"Be careful!" My cry sounded loud in the silent shack and echoed off of the walls. Jack turned to look at me, his eyes just as stunned as mine. "At least," I murmured, lowering my eyes as my cheeks colored, "let me help you sit up." I had to look back into his eyes, and they were gazing at mine with an intensity close to fire. More blood rushed to my cheeks, but I didn't quite mind. The feeling was filling me with a sensation of life. I didn't want to let it go.

He nodded slowly, and I pushed on his shoulder so I could help him up. His gaze never left my eyes, but I couldn't look him in the eye. I had been able to, a long time ago, but now, I felt weak somehow, as if I should be able to look him squarely in the eye. But I couldn't. I was ashamed that I had almost killed myself, and he had been so near! To think that I wouldn't have ever seen him again killed me more than the object ever could have.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, his eyes boring into mine. I nodded mutely, unable to say even the smallest word. "You're here," he whispered, seeming to marvel at that simple fact. But I was just as amazed. Jack was here in front of me—and he was speaking to me. I was so happy that this wasn't a dream.

I nodded. I couldn't speak. I looked at Jack, my heart bursting with love. How could I love him more now than when I had a year ago? But I did. I loved Jack more than I ever had before. I could still see all the gentleness and love shining from his yees. Did he love me still, as I loved him? He reached up with both of his hands, but only one of them caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, feeling my throat tighten with emotion. I had craved his touch for so long; I didn't want to ever let go.

"Rose," he whispered again. The tone of his voice as he said my name burned my ears. I didn't ever want to forget that tone. I opened my eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks. With a little difficulty, he wiped them away, but his eyes never left mine. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, but I welcomed this pain. This was a wonderful pain: my response to his touch, his gaze, his love.

But something strange, some foreign emotion welled inside of me. I contemplated it with surprise. It was… anger. "Why didn't you look for me?" I whispered, hearing an accusing not in my voice. He looked surprised at my cautious anger.

He glanced at the floor, then back at me. "I tried." His voice broke; I could hear the pain and regret that he hadn't found me before Cal had. "I tried so… hard, Rose. I looked everywhere, in the time that I had, but I couldn't… I couldn't find you. I'm sorry."

A small prick of jealously pinched my heart. In the time that he had? "What do you mean, 'In the time that I had'?"

His eyes didn't waver this time. They took on a shine of pride. "I got a job, Rose. Granted, Cal told them to look me up, but I got the job all by myself. I'm finally an artist, Rose. They have working on portraits and teaching classes—"

"Teaching classes?" I asked skeptically.

Jack nodded. "Teaching students how to draw. I had so much to do, Rose. I stayed up as late as I could to find out anything about you. But you had disappeared. No one knew of a Rose DeWitt Bukator."

A small smile lighted my lips, and I was aware that my cheeks were flushing crimson, but I didn't care. I looked Jack right in the eye. "That's because there is no Rose DeWitt Bukator anymore. She died on _Titanic_. I'm Rose Dawson now." The shock, surprise, warmth, and love that flitted across his face in various order was worth it. I had never expected that it would mean so much to him.

"You… You took… my name?" he asked incredulously. I nodded, smiling. He smiled in return and leaned towards me, catching my lips against his. My heart pounded in my chest; it was no longer weak and flimsy. It was healthy now that Jack was back. Tears poured down my cheeks, but they were tears of joy, not sorrow. I leaned into the kiss, everything familiar. His hands caressed my cheeks, then moved to my neck. His fingertips sent shivers rippling down my spine, but I welcomed the feeling. I felt so alive in this moment. My hands reached up to pull Jack closer to me. His hands moved down my chest, and I latched onto his jacket.

But suddenly, I pulled away. Jack glanced at me, confused, and I let a weak smile part my lips. I couldn't breathe. He laughed and attempted to pull me close. I scooted into his side, resting my head against his shoulder. His hands brushed over mine; I wanted to feel his arms around me, but our hands were tied. We couldn't have undone them if we had tried.

I was still trying to catch my breath. Jack, too, seemed a little out of breath, and we both laughed silently. But my laughter faded as unspoken questions came to mind. I didn't know how to ask. "Um… How are… Tommy? Fabrizio?"

I felt Jack stiffen. "They didn't make it." I gasped, turning to look up at him. He was staring straight in front of him. I leaned up and kissed his cheek. He turned to look at me, and I could see the thankfulness in his eyes. "I thought I had lost you, too. But you're here. You really are here." I nodded, another question popping into my mind.

"How did you find me? Or even know that I was alive?"

Jack smiled and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a hairclip, and I gasped. "My hairclip!" I reached out slowly and took it from his hand. He had held this; he had kept this; he had had a part of me. My fingers slowly traced over it, and I looked at Jack. "I didn't even know I had lost it."

His smile widened. "That was the only proof I had. Cal gave it to me, telling me that you were alive. I hadn't believed him at first—"

"Cal," I spat. "How did you get involved with him? You know how much I hate…" Jack held up his hands. I hadn't realized my voice had risen almost to a shout. He seemed about to laugh, but his face became serious.

"I had nothing to do with Cal. He came to me. He brought me your clip. He was the one that told me you were alive, but he wouldn't bring me to you. So, I tried to find you myself. It wasn't easy at all. I had so much to do already. Maybe I was in the wrong part of town. But I looked and looked." He gazed down at me, a deep love for me present in his eyes. "But I never knew to ask about a Rose Dawson." But his eyes were full of confusion. "Why did you take my name?"

I shrugged. "I'm not too sure why. But I know that I wanted to be Rose Dawson ever since I went back to you on the bow." I felt a blush color my cheeks, but Jack looked pleased. He moved towards me, and I inclined my head just slightly. Our lips met, and I felt a sensational happiness well inside of me. I wasn't sure how much happier I could become. Even in this horrible situation, with the knowledge of Jack not being here, it never crossed my mind. I was too happy.

Jack pulled back to look at me. "What happened? How have you been doing?"

Tears spilled from my eyes. I hurried to wipe them away. Why did I seem to be crying so much lately? Jack was here; I should be happy! But the truth was, Jack's questions brought back so many bad memories, so many painful nights that it still hurt me to think of them. I cleared my throat, but it was too dry. Everything was stuck, but finally, I managed to get out the words, even if they were thick with emotion. I felt a strange sensation that I should tell him everything.

"What happened?" A dry laugh escaped my throat. "I thought you were dead. I… I tried… to carry on… It wasn't easy." All this time, my gaze never met his. "I couldn't live. Every day blurred into the next; only the pain gave me a sense of time. Usually it was early in the morning… when I'd wake and realize that my dream of you was exactly that: a dream."

"You dreamed of me?" Jack seemed puzzled, surprised, and happy all at the same time. Still, I couldn't look him in the eye.

I nodded. "All the time. Every time I closed my eyes, you were there, dancing in front of me or flying behind me. I didn't care how much pain it caused me to think of you. To think about losing you in every way was too unbearable."

I felt a hand on my face, but I didn't touch it, nor did I look up. "How much pain were you in?" His voice was hard, almost as if he were blaming himself.

My head shook of its own accord. "No, it's not your fault. I truly believed you were dead. It was… physical pain to think about what we could have been. What I wanted to be. I wanted to be with you always, and the pain hit every time I thought of it. I had wanted it so much…" Finally, I risked a glance at his face. I couldn't gauge the expression on his face. But it was painful to see. "I still want it so much," I whispered.

Suddenly, Jack hoisted his arms over my head and pulled me into a hug. My arms were useless tied, but I tried anyway. Jack held me closer, crushing me to him, but his hold wasn't tight enough. I wanted him to hold me tighter; I had missed him so much. I leaned into Jack, whispering, "I missed you so much."

"I had no idea you were in that much pain," he whispered into my neck. "I'm so sorry, Rose! If I had known—"

"No, it's all right now," I interrupted him. "How could you have known? We both thought the other was dead." I leaned back to look into his eyes. "How did you survive?" A sudden, horrible thought crossed my mind. "Or did you not survive at all? I understand if there is someone else, and I wasn't… important to you… anymore."

Jack pulled away, then rested a hand underneath my chin. I flicked my eyes up, and the expression on Jack's face was unreadable. "You? Not important to me? Rose, how could say such a thing? You are the only thing that has ever mattered to me. I thought of you all the time. I dreamed about you, too. Believe me, Rose. No one can or will ever take your place in my life. I wasn't surviving. I was dead without you, Rose. My body was living, but everything inside of me was dead."

I looked up at Jack. "You, too?"

He nodded, then pulled me into his arms. Suddenly, I felt extremely exhausted. I leaned my head against his shoulder, breathing in his smell. It was like a potion that caused me to fall asleep. I felt Jack's arm twisted strangely around me, but it still felt comfortable. I closed my eyes and smiled, slipping into the most peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Something was shaking me. It wasn't harsh; it was the gentlest touch that I had ever felt. I didn't want to wake up yet. This was the best sleep that I had gotten in over a year, and I wanted to stay unconscious as long as possible. I snuggled closer to my pillow, a strange something that seemed to conform to my body. But it was warm and comfortable. I sighed in delight, my mind drifting back into the blackness of sleep. Until—

"Rose!"

The simple call woke me immediately. I had to be dreaming. I gasped when I saw Jack's face, and happiness welled up inside of me. He was here in front of me; he wasn't a dream at all. He was real.

"What's the matter?" I whispered.

"Cal's coming! I don't want you to be asleep when he comes," Jack whispered fervently. I nodded, my eyes going wide with shock. Jack was absolutely right. I couldn't be asleep when Cal came in.

Sure enough, it was Cal that walked into the shed. Jack gritted his teeth and moved so he was halfway in front of me. I felt my heart burst at how Jack was still trying to protect me. I didn't know what this emotion was, but I almost felt sick to my stomach. My eyes watered, and Cal became blurry.

Cal trudged over to where we were huddled. His hand reached out, backhanding Jack across the face. I gasped and reached towards him. "No! Don't hurt him!" Cal's other hand grabbed my dress and pulled me up to my full height. He grabbed my arm, pulling me away from Jack. I shook my head, but Cal set his lips and pulled me away faster. I stretched my free hand towards Jack.

"Rose!" he cried, trying to stand.

"Jack!" I called back before Cal slammed and locked the shed door.

I looked up at Cal in fear. What would he do? He had already done so much to hurt me. Suddenly, Cal's statement of death came floating into my mind. He would kill Jack; that much was certain. Jack didn't stand a chance, especially if his hands were tied. I worried over what would happen. I bit my lip, trying to quell the appearing pain. I didn't need pain overwhelming my thoughts as Cal queried me.

Cloth was spread over my eyes, and I felt a thrill of fear tingle up my spine. He grabbed my hand and led me somewhere, and I could hear my erratic breathing. I didn't know what would happen to me. Suddenly, everything around me was very warm. I hadn't noticed how cold it had been in the shed until now. I shivered as I stood, not out of cold, but fear. The blindfold was removed from my eyes, and I looked around in amazement.

The room was very colorful, with two or three paintings adorning the walls. The sofas were of an expensive material and very well put together. A fire crackled in the fireplace, spreading warmth and light throughout the room. I glanced over at Cal, who was sitting in a single seat with a brandy in his hand. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

I felt self-conscious as I noticed Cal staring at me, and the color rose to my cheeks. I didn't want him to stare at me like I was a prize, or something he had to conquer. I only wanted love, and I already had that. Cal didn't know how to love. He thought that expensive gifts and money was a testament of love, but he was wrong.

"Rose."

Cal's voice was so soft that I barely heard it. I met his eyes, only to find them strangely kind and confused. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing, especially considering the events of the previous few days. His voice, too, was not harsh. It was quiet and calming, a tone I had never heard in his voice before.

He came to stand before me. He kneeled, and for a moment, my mind jumped to conclusions. Cal took my hand, and looked at me earnestly. "I'm sorry for those cuts that I gave you. I was… not myself when that happened. I haven't been myself recently. Please, can you forgive me, Rose?"

I sat completely stunned at this new Cal. He had never asked for forgiveness, not once. My mouth hung open in surprise, and it was quite a few seconds before I could even react. I closed my mouth and blinked.

"I don't know why you won't come with me, Rose. I could give you so much. I could give you the world, something that Dawson could never do. We could live a life of good fortune, and you could get into whatever occupation you wanted."

My breath caught in my throat. I really had never thought of that before. I wanted so much to see the world and become an actress. I could do that. I could put up with Cal and live how I wanted, especially if it meant that Jack was safe. I would do anything to ensure Jack's safety, even if it meant I would never see him again. Just knowing he was alive would be enough.

Cal's hand rubbed mine. "Dawson could never give you that kind of future. He doesn't have anything."

Suddenly, it was as if I had snapped out of a dream. Why had I even thought about living with Cal if it meant being away from Jack? Jack had so much more than Cal would ever have. Money didn't matter to me; it never had. Once I had met Jack, he had been the only thing that had ever mattered to me.

I snatched my hand away and shook my head. "No, Cal. I won't come with you. I can do just as much with Jack."

Cal's arm twitched, as did his face. I could tell that he was trying to control his anger, but it wasn't going so well. I was afraid of what he might do, just as he had done when he had found about the picture that Jack had drawn of me. He had been furious then, and he was even more angry now.

His fist banged the table. "What is it?" he almost screamed. "What is it about that gutter rat that you want to be with him when he has nothing? He doesn't have any money or fortune; he has no way to provide for you; and he doesn't love you! Not like I do! I love you, Rose."

I stood to my feet, a fire flashing in my eyes, making them cold as ice. "How dare you say that Jack doesn't love me! He loves me more than life itself! He loves me more than you would ever be capable of! Jack has _love_, Cal. You know nothing about love! I don't care if he has no money or riches. We will get by because we love each other. And that love is something that you cannot break apart, no matter how hard you try."

I stood in assurance of my statement. I knew deep down that it was completely true. I didn't care if Jack didn't have money. I would always love him for as long as I had breath. Even if he died, as I had believed before, it still hadn't taken away my love for him. Cal didn't understand it. He never would.

A hand flew out to strike my face. I turned a hateful eye on Cal. It didn't matter how many times he hit me. I wouldn't change my mind. I would remain Jack's forever and for always. I faced Cal with confidence. It didn't matter what he did to me. I was flying on wings that Jack had given me long ago. I was happy in this moment, knowing and feeling Jack's love.

Cal's hand closed around my wrist and he dragged me through the house. I didn't have time to look at anything, except to make the small observation that everything looked very expensive. I followed as best as I could, my tied hands making it hard to balance at my tilted position. I could feel when we were getting close to the shed, and I almost smiled with unexplainable joy. Jack. Soon, his face would be before my eyes again, and I could gaze into his wonderful blue eyes.

The door crashed open, and Jack looked up hopefully. His posture relaxed as he noticed I was all right, and his eyes flicked to mine. Suddenly, they became hard as flint, making a point to stop on my left cheek. I blushed, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks, and to my surprise, my left one did hurt. I knew he had seen the quick flick of pain to cross my face, and I could tell Jack was furious.

Cal pushed me towards Jack, and he quickly stepped forward to catch me. I gasped as sudden realization caused me to glance up at Jack. He cautiously winked at me, then faced Cal. Cal was in a frenzy now, a bar of metal in his hand. What had happened to this man? He had never used to be like this. He actually had been quite kind a few times.

With a roll of his shoulders, Cal stepped forward. "Well, Rose, since you say you and Dawson's love can't be broken, I will prove you wrong. Anything can be broken, even the most callous of men."

Suddenly, I realized that Cal was talking about himself. I gasped in comprehension. I had broken Cal's heart. Whatever love that Cal had had in his heart, I had taken it away and broken it. I would have felt guilty had not a crazed look taken over Cal's face. I was too afraid of him to move. All I could do was cling to Jack.

Cal rushed at Jack, and Jack grunted, pulling his hands free from the ropes and grabbing anything in sight, blocking the blow that Cal had intended for him. My heart raced with adrenaline as I saw them fight. With one blow, Jack would gain the advantage, and vice versa. I wrung my hands as one of Cal's blows struck Jack in the stomach, sending him reeling. I gasped and let out a mangled scream. Cal smiled wickedly, but Jack was up again, this time gaining the upper hand.

Finally, when I thought I couldn't take any more, Cal reached up with one of his hands, begging Jack to stop. Jack slowly withdrew, his blunt and heavy weapon clattering to the floor. Jack was breathing hard, and I rushed to his side, clinging to him as hard as I could. I never wanted to see him fight again. Jack glared at Cal with a hard expression on his face.

"Leave us be, Hockely."

I held onto Jack as best as I could despite the awkward position with which we were walking, but he didn't protest. He hugged me tighter to him. Jack opened the shed door, and I could feel the cold air around me, but it was almost like the symbol of a fresh start. I could feel the happiness well inside of me until I was almost crying. I would be able to live a life with Jack.

A small noise behind me caused me to look. I screamed. "Jack, look out!"

Jack pushed me down onto the grass, grabbing something and swinging it at Cal. I screamed again at the sickening sound of ripping flesh and the fresh smell of blood lingering in the air. Cal cried out in pain, falling to the ground and clutching his arm. I managed only a small glance. Jack had apparently taken the weapon from Cal and had slashed open his left arm. Jack didn't flinch.

"Leave us be, Hockley!" Jack said harshly, and this time, Cal nodded. Jack walked to me, cradling me in his arms. "Come on," he whispered. "I don't think he will bother us too much anymore."

I nodded numbly, not quite able to think. I looked up at the sky. It was a full moon, and the millions of stars shone around it like beacons. I would always remember this night as the night of a fresh start.

**Don't worry guys! It's not over yet! I still have more coming! Again, I'm really sorry it took so long to update! I will try to update this next chapter sooner!**


	15. Chapter 15: Worth More Than Forever

**A/N:** YES!! IT'S FINALLY DONE!! Unfortunately, it is time for this story to come to a close! I'm really proud of this story, and I've had such a fun time writing it, even if it can be angsty and heartbreaking. I know the name of the chapter's kinda gay, but I really could think of anything else, really. By the way, I have a beta profile right now, so if anyone would like me to beta their stories, let me know and I'll see what I can do! I'll only be taking four at a given time, though. BUT, I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed this story as much as I have!! Enjoy!

_**Sweet Revenge Chapter Fifteen**_

15. Worth More Than Forever 

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting light over the city. Noise started to replace the silence of the night as the city began to wake. I looked at the sky, a small smile parting my lips. For the first time, it seemed as if the smile touched my eyes, touched my whole being, and I marveled in the fact that there wasn't a cloud in sight; it was a perfect day. A new day. A new day with Jack by my side. I couldn't have been happier. Tears pricked my eyes in response to the potency of my emotions.

"Rose?" Jack asked nervously. "Are you all right?"

I turned away from him, quickly wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "I'm all right. I'm just… completely happy. " I flicked my eyes to his face, feeling my cheeks heat from a blush. But I forced myself to hold his gaze, to look at everything in his crystal blue eyes. I could see so much—I could see my future.

Jack smiled, causing my heart to leap in my chest. He was here; he was here, and he would be here forever, I didn't have to sped my time alone anymore. I wouldn't be crying in the morning anymore. And best of all, I was alive again. Jack had come back to me, and had made everything right in the world. He had turned my sorrow into joy, my pain into happiness.

I laced my arm around Jack's, pressing close to him and leaving on his arm. "You'd be proud of me," I said quietly. "I got my own apartment and a job."

My hindsight caught his small hesitation. "A job? What is it?"

"I'm a seamstress," I said strangely, seeing the irony of it all.

Jack laughed. "I bet your mom would've been furious. She hated the thought of being a seamstress, after all!"

"Oh, she was!" I laughed with him, but it faded as I thought of the recent events. Though I had despised Mother for trying to push me into marrying Cal, I had still loved her. Her death didn't hurt me as much as I thought it would, but then again, I had gone through pain worse than I'd ever felt before. The pain of Mother's death was nowhere near as potent as the thought that Jack had been gone from my life forever.

"Rose."

The way he said my name—even if he were sad at the moment—sent tingles of pleasure rippling up my spin. I looked up at him, the subdued tone of his voice finally sinking through my ears.

"I'm sorry about your mom. Really."

"Thank you, Jack." I smiled as we continued to walk towards my part of town. All around me, everything seemed brighter, clearer, and warmer. I was no longer cold and dead on the inside; I could feel the sun on my skin, giving it back of its natural palor. The wind wasn't cold anymore; it was a little cool, but the breeze was refreshing and felt soft, almost like a caress. Everything was alive. I could feel the tingle on my arm where Jack was touching me.

"Jack," I said, turning my eyes towards him, my brows furrowed together in confusion. "You said you taught, right?" Jack nodded, and I felt a twinge of jealousy. "Are there… any nice-looking girls in your class? You know, ones that might…"

He looked stunned for a moment, then broke into laughter. I felt my face scrunch up in confusion and slight hurt. He was laughing at me! "No, Rose, no." Jack laughed at my expression for a moment longer, then turned to me. His eyes were full of love, yet they were slightly playful, too. "Rose, your picture hangs in the room. Everyone I teach knows who you are."

I smiled, feeling a blush color my cheeks and slightly embarrassed that I had even though he might like someone else. Suddenly, Jack took his arm from mine and wrapped them around my waist. I squealed slightly as he lifted me from the ground, twirling me around before setting me on my feet. I truned to him, my face creased in a smile. I placed my arms on his shoulders, letting my fingers play through his messy, dirty-blond hair. Jack smiled back at me.

I stood to my tiptoes and trapped Jack's face in between my hands. I gave a small laugh touched my lips to his. I could feel Jack smile against my lips, his arms pulling me tighter into his embrace. His tongue flipped against my bottom lip, and my heart leaped painfully in my chest, stuttering and pounding against my ribcage as long-dormant desires flared up inside of me. My lips parted as I gasped, shocked at the intensity of my feelings.

I suddenly realized that this was what I had been missing. I had missed Jack's touch, his smell, his taste, his eyes—I had missed everything about him. But I knew—now that I had him back—how much I desperately wanted him, how much I needed him, how much I loved him.

A low moan escaped from my mouth as Jack slipped his tongue through my parted lips. I melted against him, my hands twining through his mop of dirty blond hair. We pulled away to breathe, our forehead touching as we sucked in the warming air. I gently placed my right hand on smooth, tan cheek.

"I love you," I whispered breathlessly.

Jack chuckled, his warm breath blowing on my mouth. "I love you, too, Rose." He paused for a moment, another chuckled rumbling from his chest. "God, I've been wanting to do that for so long."

My head fell back as I laughed, because I had wanted the exact same thing. Though I hated to, I pulled away from him only to lace my fingers with his as I continued towards my apartment. Everything was perfect. Jack was with me again; his kin on mine made every nerve tingle almost as if each one were a live wire. Cal would leave us alone, but it wasn't only those things that were better. The whole world was brighter: the leaves were an assortment of brilliant green; the grass that grew along the edges of town seemed to have new life; the air was crisp, but warm and smelling like spices. I could feel the tang of summer as the season progressed. New York was a brigher, happier place.

But the euphoria that consumed me was suddenly shattered as my eyes rested on the running figure in front of me. My eyes widened, my breathing stopped, my heart raced, and my blood froze. This could _not_ be happening. My mind was sliding back and forth between my fight or flee reflex, but it was too late. I had been spotted, and this was not the kind of thing I had been expecting.

I had been getting further away from John Calvert; the second wave of pain that came from the memory of Jack ad made it too painful for me to stay with him for long. I saw the concern on his face, but I wasn't hearing his voice. My eyes flicked over to Jack's face. He looked extremely confused, and shocked as well. Everything was slowly coming clearer, though, and John's voice was slowly reaching my ears. Sounds were coming back, but I wasn't prepared for what John would do next.

"Rose, I was so worried! You were gone, and haven't been seeing me…"

I cringed at his last sentence. I had never really "seen" John officially. He had been the one to call on me. Even still, I was partly to blame. I had agreed to all the times that he had asked me to go anywhere with him. My heart sank. I t felt as if nothing could go more wrong.

Suddenly, John threw his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. I gasped and automatically recoiled. This wasn't Jack; it wasn't his touch—not to mention he was standing right beside me. Besides, all the ways that Jack could react—considering where we had just come from—were firing off in my mind. I saw Jack's hand grasp John's arm, a stern and threatening looking icing over his blue eyes. I was slightly afraid for John; he had been kind to me, and I didn't want to see him hurt. But that was inevitable now. I would hurt him anyway.

John let go of me, seeming to see Jack for the first time. They were both about the same height, but different in every other way. Jack's hair was dirty blond; John's was almost black. Jack's eyes were an icy blue as he stared at Calvert, and John's hazel eyes were equally stern. John immediately threw up his guard, and wretched his arm from Jack's grasp.

"Who are you?" John asked.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I'm Jack Dawson. You?"

John's posture relaxed. "Dawson? Jack Dawson?" He turned to me, and I felt my throat tighten. "I thought you said that you're brother had died." I gulped, my brain working furiously on something to say. But all I could think about was the truth. There was no other way. I had to tell John the truth.

I cast my eyes to the ground, my voice slightly muffled. "I thought Jack was dead, too," my voice broke. I hated every time I had to attach that word to Jack's name. "But he's not! I heard word that he was alive, so I went away to try and find him. But, John… Jack is not my brother." I couldn't go any further. I glanced up at John, a pleading look in my eyes, begging for him to understand what I was too afraid to say—to afraid to say because I might hurt a friend.

John blinked, his mouth opening in a silent "o". My heart ached at the pain in his eyes; he had been a good friend to me while I was still mourning Jack, but no one could replace the one that held every aspect of me, every piece of me that I possessed. I understood that John had probably fallen in love with me, even if I were broken and I didn't love him back. I loved Jack, and as cold as it sounded to my own mind, it was all that mattered at the moment.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, still feeling upset and guilty at the expression on John's face. This was the first time that I had ever felt bad for Jack being near me. I didn't want Jack to leave or go away, but I still felt uncomfortable under John Calvert's gaze. I turned, feeling another person's eyes on me. I t was Jack, his eyes wide. They looked… hurt.

"You…" he whispered. "You moved… on?"

My breath hitched, my heart stopping in disbelief at the falsity that his words belied. "No!" My cry wasn't loud, but my voice broke and came out hoarse. "No, that's not true! I… I…" My hands fell to my side. Something had come back to me—something that I really hadn't thought of before. I had been denying it, delaying it. I hadn't wanted to be with John—he deserved so much more love than I could give him. But I had been ready to start seeing him again, and the thought scared me. I knew I loved Jack with everything I had, but what if I had agreed to marry John before Jack had come?

I shivered. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if I had agreed to John's proposal. I knew it would have come, but I might not have found Jack, and that thought caused me more pain that I thought possible. Life without Jack was like a life with no air.

My eyes turned to John's. I'm sorry, John, but… I love Jack. You deserve more than what I can give you, because all of me belongs to this man standing next to me. There's someone out there for you, John, but it's not me. I'm sorry," I repeated the apology. It seemed as if I couldn't apologize enough.

John gulped, then nodded slightly. He took my hand and kissed it. "Good luck to you, Rose." His voice was thick with emotion, and for some reason, I felt as if I had betrayed him. I stared after him as he walked away, still upset that I had hurt John. He had been so kind to me, trying to help me, but I couldn't give him what he deserved. Jack was the only one for me; John deserved someone that could give him their whole heart and mind. Jack would forever hold everything I possessed, but as I looked at Jack, my guilt subsided a little. My heart was wrenching in my chest, a strange sensation considering how my heart felt like it would burst with love.

As I looked at Jack's face, all thoughts of John vanished. I wouldn't forget what John had done, but I knew that I didn't love John at all. I respected him, and I thanked him for what he had done, but I didn't love him. Jack was my one true love, and I smiled at the way he looked at me. I wanted him to meet someone.

"Come on!" I laughed, starting to run through the streets and crowd of people. Jack chuckled and chased after me. I was strangely reminded of the chase through the _Titanic's_ boiler room, but there was no bitterness, no pain as the memory filled my mind. Instead, I felt happy, like wings had suddenly given me flight. I laughed again, glancing behind me and squealing in delight as I saw Jack catching up to me. I dashed faster though the crowd, only to have two strong arms grasp me from behind. I laughed as Jack twirled me around, the breath from his own laughter tickling my neck. He chuckled as he turned me to face him, his eyes sparkling as he smiled down at me. I felt my heart flutter erratically as I pulled his head down for a kiss.

Jack chuckled and ran his hands along my back as I pulled away and buried my head in his chest. My arms wrapped around him and held him close, his proximity sending waves of emotion crashing through me. I shut my eyes as tears formed, and I tightened my hold on him.

"I missed you so much, Jack. So much." I cursed my voice for breaking, but Jack's arms ightened. I silently sobbed into his chest, the flood of emotions of him finally being here too much for me to hold in. Jack swept one hand along my back and one through my hair as slowly rocked me back and forth.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry," he whispered in between kisses to the top of my head. I clutched him closer to me, unwilling to let him go, even if I knew he were here with me. The thought that I might have lost him stayed with me, but I could feeling his warmth generating heat throughout my body, giving me the strength and confidence I needed.

I stepped back and looked around me. I sighed in relief as I recognized many of the buildings surrounding me. We were actually close to Cathy's seamstress shop, Davenport Dresses. I glanced behind me, my eyes resting on the graveyard in the distance. It didn't seem as lonely or eerie; the flowers were blooming and the trees spread their leaves over various gravestones, yet it was still a reminder of a horrible tragedy. I hadn't even noticed it.

A small laugh escaped my lips as I grabbed Jack's hand. "I want you to meet someone," I smiled, pulling him towards Cathy's shop. Once we reached the door, I stopped him with the palm of my other hand. "Wait here," I whispered. The bells tinkled above the doorframe as I entered Cathy's shop. Suddenly, everything inside the room was wrapped in silence. Cathy was looking at me in shock and relief, as were Susan and Melody. With a small cry of relief, Cathy raced towards me, her arms imprisoning me in a bone-crushing hug.

She pulled back to look at me, her bright eyes clouding over as they flicked over my body. "I was so worried when you didn't show, Rose! I… Who did this to you?" Her voice was filled with shock, and I glanced down at myself. I was only suddenly aware of a dim ache in my cheek, and I saw the raw, blood-crusted flesh around my wrists. A new wound on my left arm came to my attention, and I briefly wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. My only answer would be Jack.

Cathy placed her hands on either side of my face, being careful of my cheek, which I assumed was bruised. "Your eyes," Cathy said, her lips parting in confusion. "Your eyes are different. They're brighter…"

A smile parted my lips, and I pulled away. "Cathy…" I quickly stepped outside and pulled Jack in after me. I felt as if my face were glowing, but I placed my hand in Jack's and stared at Cathy, Melody, Susan, and the other seamstresses. "Cathy, this is Jack. Do you remember what I told you about him? He…" I gave a grateful laugh, "I didn't know that he actually survived the _Titanic_."

Cathy stared at Jack in shock for a moment, then whipped her hand across Jack's face. I cried out in shock, and Jack held his cheek, a confused look on his face. I touched my hand to Jack's cheek, but Cathy yanked me away from him.

"You swine!" Cathy hissed. "Do you know what you did to this girl? Do you know the amount of pain and suffering she went through each and ever day because you weren't there? And you've given here these cuts and bruises?"

I had to stop Cathy soon. Each time she mentioned my pain and suffering Jack winced, and I had to take that pained look away from him. It was killing me inside, too, and my mind raced as I tried to gather my thoughts to form coherent sentences.

"No, it's not like that," I whispered, my voice coming out not at all as strong as I had hoped. "Jack thought I was dead, too. We didn't know the other was alive. Don't… Don't say that to him. He suffered just as much as I did… He never meant to do that to me, we didn't really have a choice. He didn't hurt me like this. My old fiancée wanted me to marry him, but I disagreed. So he kidnapped me and took me away. He did this to me. It wasn't Jack. Jack would never hurt me. Oh, Jack!" I whispered in agony as I threw myself into his arms. I wasn't too sure why I was starting to cry, but the image of his pained face would not leave my mind. I _never_ wanted to see that look on his face again.

Jack held me to him, and I barely heard Cathy through my tears. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I just thought… Well, I shouldn't have judged you. I believe that since you came back, I saw something in her eyes that I have never seen before. She looked _alive_." I felt Jack wince around me, and I clutched him to me even harder. "But that just proves how much she loves you. You never have to worry about her ever leaving you."

I glanced up at Jack, my watery eyes reinstating how true Cathy's last statement had been. There was nothing in the world that would tear me away from Jack, nor take my love for him away. I felt two hands touch the cool skin of my arm, and I glanced at Susan and Melody. I could see that they were itching to know more about Jack. I laughed shakily and moved over to talk to them while Jack started to converse with Cathy. For the remainder of the day, I spoke to Susan and Melody, the memory of _Titanic_ no longer something to bring me to my knees because of the pain. It was still an aching memory, but it signified how much Jack and I had grown, and it was just an obstacle that had tried to break our love. And we had overcome it.

Cathy gave me one last hug before Jack took my hand in his. I led the way back to my apartment, but we walked slowly, not in a hurry to pass the time. We wanted these moments together, and we wanted them to last forever. At least, I wanted them to. Jack and I gazed at the setting sun, its bright, tingling rays spreading warmth over our already warm bodies.

The weather was still a little cold, but Jack's warmth spread over me. He was like my own personal sun. He lit up my life; he was the one thing that dispersed my life with light, giving me a purpose and a will to live. Without him, my life was dark, and I was a mere shadow of what I had been with him. Without the sun, I was lost in the darkness that had consumed my soul. I shuddered at the thought of the times when I had been without the sun, when the light was no longer shining in my life. It truly had been a terrible time, but my sun had shone again.

I stepped up the stairs, my hand loathe to leave Jack's. I quickly fingered for the keys, finally finding them and unlocking the door to my apartment. I flicked on the lights, and looked at Jack expectantly. I knew that there really wasn't too much décor in the one-roomed apartment, but Jack could help me fix it.

"What do you think?" I whispered.

Jack flashed a smile at me. "You did a great job," he whispered back, tucking a hand underneath my chin and pulling my face towards his as he quickly pecked me on the lips. I felt a blush heat my cheeks, and I kissed him back, finally moving away to set my things down on the counter. There wasn't too much here in the apartment, but it already felt like home with Jack's light filling the place with warmth. I quickly moved towards my bedroom, trying to get a few things done so I could spend more time with Jack.

Suddenly, two arms gently wrapped themselves around my waist, and I felt Jack's breath steam near the base of my neck. I froze as his lips gently kissed the skin beneath my hairline, over to the side of my neck and finally to my ear. I felt shivers tingle up my spine as I hear him whisper. "I've waited so long for this." He slowly turned me to him, his lips skimming my jaw line before gently caressing my own lips. And I was lost. I pulled him towards me, my passion and love for him rolling off me in waves. My hands sifted through his hair as my lips memorized the shape of his. His hands slid down my back, resting on the base of my spine.

I pulled away to breathe, but Jack didn't waste a moment. I could tell that he was just as out of breath as I was, but his lips found my neck again, and I felt my hands probe along his chest and abdomen. I took one hand to pull his face towards me again; I didn't care that I was out of breath. I wanted to feel his lips again, to taste what I had been missing for so long. Now that I had Jack, I didn't want to let him go.

Without breaking the kiss, Jack lifted me off the ground, moving over to the bed and gently placing me on the mattress. I turned to him, my eyes full of the hunger I felt, and I could see the same look in his eyes. He clutched me to him, his breathing still unsteady as his hand coursed through my thick red hair.

"I'm yours, Rose," he whispered breathlessly. "Now and forever, I am yours."

A smile broke my features as I stared up at him, my eyes mirroring the love that I felt. "I love you, too, Jack. You are the only one that will ever hold the key to my heart, and it will never change. You know that."

"Of course. You're mine," Jack growled, and I laughed at the jealous note in his voice. I pulled him towards me, our mouths locked as we finally came together, our minds taking on one thought, our bodies memorizing the shape of the other, our hearts synchronizing until we became one body and one soul.

Forever.

**A/N:** Well, I'm really happy about how this story ended up! I was originally thinking about adding a few other things, but maybe I'll transfer that into the epilogue. I don't know, but thanks to all my readers, Fan of the Bible especially for her constant reminders for me to hurry up!! :D Thank you all so much for reading my story, and I hope you all carry it with you! Till I write another story:

- wolf's paradise


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